The Alpha Wolf
by Wyvern03
Summary: His will is the blade in which the coming tide shall fall upon. His duty, the armor that gives him purpose and strength to fight on. His blood the unbreakable shield against the coming darkness. His soul, the last bastion, forged in the furnaces of war. So beware enemies of the North, for the Alpha Wolf has arrived, the North never forgets, and Winter is inevitable.(AU)(TempHiatus)
1. I

_**Enjoy!**_

 _His will is the blade in which the coming tide will fall upon. His duty, the armor that gives him purpose and strength to fight on. His blood the unbreakable shield against the coming darkness. His soul, the last bastion, forged in the furnaces of war. So beware enemies of the North, for the Alpha Wolf has arrived, the North never forgets, and Winter is inevitable._

Hadrian "Harry" James Potter-Black was exhausted. He was tired of all the bullshit that everyone expected of him but he knew that if he didn't do it then no one else would. And so he soldiered onwards as he defiantly and stubbornly fought against the muggle armies. _Damn Hermione!_ He thought as he laid down in a hideout. He knew he was one of the few magicals left amongst the living all the others being killed by the muggles or in desperate hiding.

He did not know if any were alive besides him in fact.

He wondered where it all went wrong.

Was it at the end of the second Blood War? Where muggleborns were hunted like animals and purebloods like Lucious Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange ruled with an iron fist in a desperate attempt to prove themselves superior to everyone?

Or was it after Hermione decided to reveal the magical world to muggles in a selfish attempt to make the magical world a copy of the muggle one and couldn't see beyond her own naivest and compulsive nature.

He didn't know nor did he care at this point.

His only thoughts these days were of survival.

He knew that after the Battle of Hogwarts everything would be different. He and Ginny just didn't have it for each other afterwards but that didn't stop her banshee of a mother from attempting to get them together whenever presented an opportunity.

He didn't attend the magical institution afterwards either instead, choosing to travel the world to learn of everything magical.

Hermione and Ron didn't last long either but he knew that was for the best. Ron's jealous and lazy attitude clashing against Hermione's prideful and stuck-up personality like two heavy-weight sumo wrestlers that had every reason to not back down.

He quickly escaped that implosion.

Harry first went to Gringotts where, after a lengthy meeting and getting fined for the amount of damage caused to the bank, he received his inheritance. Even with the amount fined, he could spend flippantly for five lives and then some with what he received, considering that he had the monetary assets of Black and Potter.

After setting aside a rather healthy trust vault for his godson Teddy Lupin and naming him his heir (after discussing it with Andromeda Tonks who agreed), he put that money to good use to travel the world.

The Man that Lived particularly enjoyed learning wandless magic in Japan and the Germanic tribes that mastered of elemental magics.

It was around the time when he was in America learning of some legit but incredibly freaky voodoo magic that he learned of a muggleborns movement for integration with muggle society, headed by none other than Hermione Granger.

He didn't think anything of it nor did he want to get involved in what was sure to turn into another British magical war. He rather enjoyed his freedom and the last thing he needed was to get caught in that particular political war.

What was soon a simple political movement for muggleborns equal rights turned into total war with the muggle world.

From what Harry understood was that, Hermione and a number of muggleborns began performing magic at a United Nations meeting and after being captured by the muggle governments and interrogated were publicly killed and thus declared war upon the magical people sparking a war for survival against the muggle governments. Most muggleborns were immediately found and killed or where possible captured while many magicals quickly went in hiding and desperately looking for a solution to the shattered Statute of Secrecy.

It was in vain. After a couple years they muggle governments found a way to discover magical signatures with the help of captured muggleborns who were tested on.

By this time Harry had retreated back to London to rescue both Teddy Lupin and Andromeda Tonks as Hogwarts was already destroyed by precision airstrikes the magical wards only capable of resisting magical punishment and not conventional warfare.

When he arrived at the Tonks home, he was greeted with a ruined house and two bodies tied to stakes and burned to ash.

Several soldiers were patrolling the area when he was spotted who he promptly killed regardless of whether or not they were the ones that had done the act thus entering him into the resistance.

Given that the muggle leaders were now under heavy surveillance and that the Imperious curse needed to be cast essentially point blank for it to be effective, the only way to force a peace was to either find a means to mass obliviate the muggle population _and_ the internet or to battle the muggles in a war of attrition. It would be easier to do the former rather than the latter no matter how impossible it was for magic to work on such a precise and massive scale.

The muggles were smart to keep whatever mass destruction weapons they had under tight security as well. Never mind the fact that they had no idea how to launch said missiles. No the muggles were saving those for other muggles.

And so began the guerilla war life that was Harry Potter. He lost count of how many he killed but if he had to guess it had to be at least a couple thousand. He meant that in the most sincerest way possible but it was a war and every single victory counted, no matter how pyrrhic to him. In his book, any soldier that fought for child-killers deserved to die.

Harry shook his head from those thoughts. He should only be focusing on survival and apparently there was a last refuge of magicals in the Arctic Circle with the apparition point being at the dragon reserve in Romania. He was currently freezing his buttocks off in southern Romania.

His eyes began getting droopy from the exertion he pushed his body through today. It would not do to be tired wandering a frozen wasteland that was filled to the brim with those that wanted to kill him.

Harry Potter-Black awoke to a bright light. It reminded him distinctly of the King's Cross Station encounter during the Battle of Hogwarts. In fact it was eerily similar. He stood and squinted his emerald eyes due to the intensity of the light.

After a moment of adjusting his vision to the light, a figure with a deep but smooth voice made itself known.

"Hadrian Potter, descendant of Ignotus Peverell." It spoke. Harry whipped around incredibly fast to the sound and was startled to see what could only be personified as Death, itself with a power and aura that not only commanded respect and authority but also a certain chill and eeriness to it. If there was a god of Death than this is it.

"Uh…" He dumbly replied. What do you even say to a deity?

"The Champion of the Peverell family." It continued. Its skeletal hand gestured widely along with its magnificent silver bladed scythe that had a raven perched atop it. The bird cawed loudly at being disturbed from it's rest. "The catalyst to the artifacts of my namesake."

"The Deathly Hallows?" Harry questioned as soon as he got the courage to speak to the one and only 'Grim Reaper'.

"Artifacts of Death." It corrected. "Objects of great power, but as the saying goes, with great power comes great responsibility. You were one of two people to understand this. You and your ancestor chose to not use the power that these artifacts possess to their fullest extent and I know that you wouldn't have given the opportunity to do so."

"I find it hard to believe that me of all the people to not use them." Harry felt oddly comfortable with this conversation. He also figured there was no use begging for your life back with the literal aspect of Death and just thought that taking this in stride was the best course off action. And while he knew all this was strange it barely cracked his top ten list of strange things to happen to him.

"Yes, you are correct. Many have gathered these artefacts and attempted to subvert my power but only those with no fear of my coming or rather accept it with undoubting conviction then and only then, may the artefacts may be used to subvert myself. However, to do so one would not accept my coming for them. One cannot die to use the power the artefacts possess but one must die to use them." It spoke with a slight hum. Harry detected a smirk underneath those words. It continued. "Of two people you are the only one to obtain the three. Your ancestor Ignotus had only the Cloak and as such only evaded me until he learned everyone must obtain my embrace."

"And you had learned to accept my presence at a young age as such when you gathered the Hallows, you became the only one to do so."

"Making me the Master of Death." Harry finished. To which the entity barked a loud laughter. It chilled Harry to his very bones. It was very dry and the laughter, if one could call it that, held a certain level of contempt with it.

"You humans with your so called beliefs." It chuckled darkly. "Would an entity of my caliber allow some mere mortal or anyone for that matter dominion over me? No. To do so would be beyond foolish."

That made sense.

"When you combined the three artefacts, your soul became immune to death and as such you are reborn. Due to this rather unique circumstance my companion, Fate, has seen fit to allow you to become my champion of sorts."

"What does that entail?" Harry questioned. In all his years of living, there were many people that wanted to offer him patronage but there was always caveats and he did not want to be stuck in one.

"Smart. You'll need it for the coming storm." It rasped and Harry detected a smirk within its words. "In the world you are going to now, there are many enemies. A world full of magic that's been perverted into an abomination. They use death as means to a beginning and life as means to an end. Fire begets destruction rather than a comforting hearth and ice heralds death to all rather than a mediator between the elements. There are beings in this world that escape even my power with their perverse magic. It'll be upon you to seek out and destroy these things."

"You want me to be a soldier." Harry surmised. "I've done enough fighting for a single lifetime."

"No. However, not enough fighting for a thousand. You are needed in this world, to allow these pretender gods their power would dissolve it into chaos and leave the world and its inhabitants to the mercy of those within it, to do so would force my hand and destroy the world and cleanse it into the void. I would rather not lose the potential this world has to needless destruction. The choice is yours."

There was silence as Harry contemplated the entity's words before he sighed in submission. "What would you have me do?"

Harry knew in absolute surety that the being was smirking now. "The objective is simple. Destroy the pretenders' agents but you cannot do so alone afterwards I will deal with the pretenders themselves. You will need allies of this world to help you. To go it alone would be foolish.

You will be taking the place of one Hadrian Stark, a son born of Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne to take upon the mantle of Heir to Winterfell and Warden of the North, a powerful kingdom in its own right, make it moreso. I will grant you a fraction of your power and as you develop more will become available to you. Learn all there is to learn about this world, sate your curiosity of knowledge as you have done in the past and fight the dangers that lurk in the darkness and in the light."

"And the Hallows?" Harry questioned.

"Will remain with me, you do not need them anymore. They have fulfilled their purpose as they will again. Go now." The entity moved entirely too fast for his eyes to catch, his skeletal hand grasping the entirety of his face and while his emeralds irises closed in this damnable place, another set opened in another.

 _ **Inspired by:**_

" _ **Reborn: Into The Wild Westeros" by Arkane007**_

" _ **A New World to Conquer" by LordOfTheGrey**_

" _ **Harry Potter: Hadrian the Wild" by Traban16**_

 _ **ANs will be few and far between IMHO they portray a word count that is unneeded and deceiving to the reader. They will only be used when important matters need to be brought up for discussion as such I will be responding to as many reviews as I can via PM. Other than that please provide constructive criticism. This short chapter was merely used to set the stage and as such I will be releasing the next chapter a soon as possible and after that I will endeavor to update as much as possible.**_

 _ **Until Next Time!**_


	2. II

_**Just a few quick statements to make before beginning, in this fic:**_

 _ **First, this is disclaimer for the previous chapter, this one and the ones to come. I do not own Game of Thrones nor A song of Ice and Fire, as they are both owned by George R. R. Martin and as such I do not make money from this. The Harry Potter franchise is owned by J.K. Rowling and I also don't own it and as such I do not make money from it. All credit goes to these two fine authors for creating such worlds for us to play with and mold stories from.**_

 _ **Next,**_

 _ **The tourney of Harrenhall has taken place in 277 AC and not 281 AC.**_

 _ **As such,**_

 _ **Rhaegar did not kidnap Lyanna until 282 AC to coincide with the events of the books the how of which will be talked about later on.**_

 _ **My reasoning for this will be talked on and rather apparent later on as the story progresses. If there is a desire for a detailed explanation by a majority of the readers, then I will add one next chapter. Other than that…**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 _-Six Years Later-_

Hadrian yawned as he stretched his legs and arms. His back resounding a series of pops for the released tension.

Sweat dripped from brow and back as he finished both his archery and swordsmanship drills. He looked around the yard of Starfall. There were a couple of retainers still there, most off to quell the rebellion and as such he had no one to spar with.

He drank a skin of water slowly as he sat down on a nearby wall. He spied several servants roaming the grounds as they went about their work. He grabbed the tome that was lying nearby and began reading it. The cover read _The Great Sieges of Westeros_.

He rather enjoyed the books on the art of war that this world had. It was filled to the brim with knowledge and he (at least attempted to) learned just about everything. His mother even taught him what she knew of court politics considering she was a handmaiden to Princess Elia Martell. He also got a fix to the amount of magic he could use at this time. He thanked his lucky stars that he had learned of wandless magic. He quickly began practicing whenever possible with meditation becoming a daily routine to focus on the eldritch and chaotic magical energies he was able to wield.

It was several minutes before a group of men rode into the gates of Starfall. Having taken to his lessons with the maester vigorously and considering who his own father was, Hadrian recognized the sigil of House Stark. They also had a small cart being pulled and in the cart appeared to be a woman, bearing no heraldry, cradling a babe in her arms.

If Hadrian didn't know better then it appeared that the rebellion succeeded.

Eddard Stark made riding a horse look grim and sullen. His face set in an everlasting bland look after witnessing his sister pass away from an intense childbirth. He, followed by Howland Reed and William Dustin rode into the Starfall keep and was greeted by a skeleton retainer of guards and servants.

He saw a young boy with, while still developing, broad shoulders and stood tall. If Eddard had to guess, he was probably ten name days old. He was reading a tome however when he looked up and gained eye contact with Eddard, the grim lord instantly saw a younger Brandon Stark with grey eyes. The group approached the boy and now that he was closer, Eddard could see the eyes that while the majority of both irises were grey, they were inlaid with two other rings, one being a menacing emerald green and the other a vibrant purple.

"Where is Lord Dayne?" Eddard asked politely looking down from his horse. Eddard and the others shifted uncomfortably under the intense gaze of the boy.

"You are Eddard Stark." The boy stated simply to him.

Eddard did not know whether to be impressed or disturbed at the boy being so nonchalant about this.

"What is your name, boy?" Eddard asked, his voice coming out more gruffly then he intended.

"Ha-" He was interrupted when a woman shouted over to them.

"Hadrian, go inside and get cleaned up." Ashara Dayne spoke loudly and clearly. The now named Hadrian, left in a hurry apparently eager to escape their presence or rather, more likely not to invoke the woman's ire.

The three Northmen were the greeted by Lord Dayne, Ashara's uncle and herself with four guards that stood ready to strike as soon as the command was given.

"Eddard of House Stark, to what do we owe this visit?" The southern lord almost sneered at him. Eddard paid him no mind and instead got off his horse and went to the carriage that they were pulling along. He grabbed the greatsword _Dawn_ in its sheath and approached Ashara with head bowed low as he handed her the sword. The Dayne beauty said nothing but stared almost lifelessly at the renowned sword. "We brought Ser Arthur's body. He deserves a proper burial."

Ashara nodded and thanked him meekly before walking away sword in hand.

He sighed in resignation before asking the Lord Dayne for the maester's services in helping his friend, Lord Dustin. The Dornish Lord nodded sharply before sneering again and walking away.

The next few days for Hadrian passed by in a blur. The burial of Uncle Arthur was a quick but solemn affair. He didn't know him as well as he was always with Rhaegar Targaryen but from the few encounters they had, he seemed a nice enough guy.

Then came the news that he dreaded.

The one thing he hated about this world was the speed at which information was shared. It never ceased to amaze him that a message could contain information a week or two old. The war and the Mad King didn't help matters either. Ravens were being shot down left and right and their information pilfered for whoever read the missives the damnable birds carried.

From what Eddard had told him, who wished to be called Ned by his nephew, told him that what sparked the banners to be called by everyone and their mother was that Lyanna Stark was abducted by Rhaegar Targaryen. Brandon and Rickard Stark had demanded the Mad King to force his son to heel and return Lyanna. The subsequent capture and burning of both Stark men led a rebellion that would end in bloody infamy.

His grandfather and father, burned and strangled respectively by order of the Mad King.

Robert Baratheon killing Rhaegar Targaryen at the Trident and being proclaimed King.

King's Landing being sacked by the Lannister army.

The Mad King being killed by his own Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister.

Lyanna's rescue being for naught as she died of a fever with three Kingsguard being killed in a bloody melee by Ned Stark and several other men.

Thousands of men and many innocents being put to the sword all because a prince couldn't bloody keep it in his pants.

Hadrian knew his days at Starfall were numbered as he had overheard his mother and Ned discussing about him. He is the legitimate heir to Winterfell after all and he could see it in his uncle's posture and eyes that he was relieved that the wardenship would not go to him.

To say Hadrian didn't confirm that particular notion with a little bit of legilimency would be lying. Hadrian would also be lying if he said he didn't plant subtle compulsory notions in his mind making him resolute in his stance that no one else but Hadrian could be the Heir to Winterfell and Warden of the North.

As much as Harry wanted to trust the honor of the renowned honorable Ned Stark, it wouldn't do for someone close to Ned convincing him to take it over regardless of legitimacy. His mother taught him as much, not to trust anyone but family. Ned may be blood but he has yet to prove himself to Harry.

It was at the end of the week and just after breaking his fast, that his mother came to him and informed him that he would be leaving for Winterfell with Ned Stark in the afternoon.

"Will you be coming with us?" He asked with slight hesitation. Having grown up one lifetime with essentially no mother figure, as she had been killed when he was an infant and the other being what he called later in life the _Shrieking Banshee_ and not at all a mother figure but akin to a sheltering bird who refused to see the world for what it was. He would rather not have to continue this life without one after having experienced growing up in loving household.

She paused caressing his hair as they both sat next to each other on his feather bed. "No, my sweet. Your grand uncle still needs me to take care of him." In other words, Grand Uncle Beric Dayne intended to have Ashara married off. "I do, however, intend to make my way to Winterfell as soon as possible." Which brightened his mood, but also internally soured it. He knew she didn't fancy her chances of being married after all she was, technically speaking, a widow and used merchandise as much as he hated this medieval world for the practice where women were bargaining chips to be used and discarded.

"Promise?" He tentatively asked while holding out one of his small pinky fingers. She wouldn't dare break one when it concerned her child and as much as the thirty-eight year old mind and soul hated acting like a child, he couldn't help himself when it concerned her.

"Promise." She smiled as she crossed her own dainty pinky with his own and then hugged her son. "Now go get ready." She sternly, however faltering as her voice was dissolving into laughter, ordered; to which he quickly brought out his trunk and began throwing his clothes onto the bed as two servants came in and assisted him.

A teary and heartfelt goodbye was had at the docks of Starfall. Harry was fussed over by his mother while the ship was loaded. The current Lord Dayne having a sneer plastered on his face directed at the northern party and at Hadrian himself but the hidden glee that they were leaving was poorly hidden.

Hadrian stood at the edge of the deck of the ship watching Starfall get smaller and smaller till it was just a speck of dust on the horizon. He hadn't spoken to any of the Northerners as of yet and he had a feeling he was about to be enlightened.

"Hadrian." Ned stated in his gruff but deep northern accent.

"My family calls me Harry." He interrupted before the older Stark could continue.

Harry didn't need to look to see the slight smile the briefly graced his face. "Harry, would you join us for supper?"

Having nothing better to do seeing as they were at sea, he turned away from the stern of the ship and followed the elder Stark to where the others were eating. It was a loud affair and rather informative.

Lord Howland Reed, he learned his name after having a rather short but pleasant early morning greeting with him, often looked to Ned for his opinion on matters while Lord Dustin was the more boisterous of the three and laughed rather uproariously at a drunken comment from a sailor while Ned Stark calmly sipped an offered advice to Lord Reed and spoke softly with Harry about the North, its inhabitants and the vast land that could fit the rest of the kingdoms in it with room to spare.

He was honest in the fact that he did not have much experience in dealing with the Northern lords as he had fostered in the Vale but had keen knowledge in the houses of the North and the Stark's vassals.

Harry appreciated this knowledge of the houses as he only had a general knowledge on them but something bothered him in particular. "Uncle, what of the Boltons? I've read that they've risen up in rebellion several times? Why keep them around if history has shown them to be untrustworthy?"

Ned sighed. He remembered Brandon asking this of his father and he in all honesty did not know why either but he supposed that they had their uses in regards of their militancy. Ned Stark finally answered. "I have always wondered that myself but if I had to guess, they have their uses in the amount of men they can call to arms. In that case, I guess that is why they have stayed in power. Neither is it honorable to cause an entire house to go extinct."

Harry nodded but did not looked convinced in the slightest.

The rest of the journey to King's Landing went off without a hitch. Harry attempted using the powers to speed the journey along but without being able to carve runes into the bottom of the outer hull and showing off his elemental magics he could do much but subtly influence the wind to push them along faster. This was also in due in part to little Jon getting rather fussy and Harry also getting impatient.

The younger Stark, however, knew that it was much safer going by ship rather than by land considering the current state of affairs within the kingdoms.

He didn't particularly fancy displaying that amount of magic and then having to mind wipe the crew. Not to mention he would have to come up with a way to explain the speed at which they made their journey and no doubt people would question the fact that a Dornish vessel crossing the sea at a pace that would not be possible for a ship not influenced by magic.

He'd have a much easier time using magic in the safety of the North where it could simply passed off as the work of the Old Gods.

The young Stark was still able to speed the month-long journey by a week so he figured that counted for something. The vessel's crew merely chalked it up to impressive luck and excellent wind.

The second the Harry entered the famed city, he wanted to leave immediately. Not only did it stink of just about everything that was putrid in the world and then some but it looked poorly designed other than the Red Keep. Under the guise of wiping his nose, he applied miniscule bubblehead charms to the insides of his nostrils to filter the smell, he did the same for baby Jon to spare the infant of the horrifying smell.

The place could do with purifying by mass scourgify several times over followed by fiendfyre and even that might be enough for the massive city to be cleansed of the filth that seemed to infect anything and everything with the smell.

Needless to say, he did not envy those that called themselves king if they had to live here.

The Northern party quickly disembarked the Dornish ship which, Harry noted, quickly set sail afterwards. Both eager to leave this city after recent events.

They Northmen and Harry quickly made their way to the Red Keep. Harry saw that the sack by the Lannister army was still showing its effects even a month after the act took place. Wherever he looked he saw smallfolk with their heads bowed low with trepidation in their step and demeanor while what few Lannister soldiers that still remained in the city had an incredibly large berth for them to walk through.

The group had split up with Lord Reed and Lord Dustin with the wet-nurse going with to gather the remaining Northmen in the city to meet them at the King's Gate with the Starks going to meet with the new king. They would leave for the North by week's end.

Ned, carrying little Jon, and Hadrian following closely finally arriving at the massive keep and even Hadrian would admit that the red stones, tall walls and imposing towers, would give off a certain sense of foreboding and dominance to all those who lived or entered its shadow.

Something prickled at Harry senses though and Harry didn't realize until after he was inside the great hall that the castle was warded! Albeit that the wards themselves had deteriorated beyond repair and to the point where only its ambient magic existed as part of the keep itself. _'Still that's something worth investigating'_ The six year old thought to himself.

He was snapped from his thoughts when a boisterous and deep laugh, more so than Lord Dustin, resounded from the infamous Iron Throne and its thousand swords. Hadrian took note of the golden blonde haired green eyed beauty scowling at the sight of them with an up-turned nose. Another older blonde bearded man with a balding head stood off to her side with a calculating gaze on the three. Hadrian immediately recognized Jon Arryn of the Vale due to his uncle describing him, his piercing blue eyes and whiting hair and sharp nose in contrast to his uncle's friend.

"Ned!" The voice greeted happily and his black beard of reasonable length shook with mirth but then suddenly did an about face as it turned confused and saddened as the man stood and walked towards the them. "Where is Lyanna?"

Ned stared for a second, his expression ever grim and solemn, then shook his head. "She didn't make it. She passed in a fever."

It was a second before what the elder Stark said clicked with the king, who Hadrian now recognized as Robert Baratheon and the instant it did, he began cursing the Targaryens, Rhaegar in particular.

Hadrian was pretty sure he was the only one to spot the smirk on the golden haired beauty and a glint of amusement in the elder Lannister's eye.

"The damn dragons! I'll have all their heads!" His incoherent rage finally making recognizable words. His temper cooling down but everyone present in the hall could see that the frenzy to kill anything even remotely reminding him of a Targaryen still bubbling underneath the surface waiting to be unleashed. It was several more moments before he spoke again, breaking the silence in the hall.

Nobody was stupid enough to anger the Demon of the Trident after all.

The Baratheon king smiled slightly at Hadrian who stood to his uncle's waist. "And who do we have here?" The Baratheon king's bright blue gaze lingered on Harry for a moment before his eyes widened in recognition and with a boisterous shout in, what Harry could only describe as amusement, the king announced, "He's the spitting image of Brandon Stark!"

The corner of Ned's lip curled slightly in relief at the change in topic between the two of them. The Quiet Wolf's outrage and blatant stand against the murder of two innocent children alongside the rape and subsequent murder of Elia Martell put a strain on the honor of Ned. He wouldn't stand for their deaths but there was nothing he could do about it.

"This here is Brandon's legitimate son and heir with Ashara Dayne, Hadrian Stark." Ned proclaimed as he gently pushed Harry forward. "My brother had a small ceremony with Ashara Dayne a couple months before the tourney of Harrenhall. My father and mother did not want to make a spectacle of it."

Jon Arryn, who was off to the side stepped forward. "Wasn't your brother supposed to marry Hoster Tully's daughter, Catelyn?"

Ned shook his head. His father was up to something when he set up the mummer's farce for Westeros to believe but he wasn't about to tell them that.

Rickard definitely had ambitions and he voiced them in a family council where only the immediate family was allowed to attend much to the adamant protests of Maester Walys. He told his two sons and daughter of his plans. He wanted to expand the House's ties but not so much so as to cause a huge political shift in a single fell swoop as that would draw unwanted attention to them for future ambitions he had and so it was planned that Brandon would marry Ashara Dayne of Starfall in secret to gain ties for a future expansion into the lucrative trade routes the western coasts of Westeros benefited from and then tie the Vale through Ned's own fostering in the Vale, his natural honorable attitude able to sway many of their lords into lasting friendships and eventually taking Catelyn Tully to wife to gain control of the Riverlands, due to Edmure's untimely demise as an infant and the Blackfish refusing to take the heirship.

The Stormlands would be tied with Lyanna's betrothal to Robert Baratheon. Trade through White Harbor would be increased as a result.

Benjen would also secure the Stark supremacy in the North by being married to Dacey of House Mormont where they would begin a new cadet branch called House Goldstark. He didn't know what drove the Old Wolf to name it that.

Not only would his plan essentially tie together everything above Harrenhall to the North, the Stormlands, a mighty military kingdom in its own right would secure their armies for an eventual dispute with the Lannisters and the Tyrells that would surely come once the whole farce was revealed for what it was.

With the Daynes on their side as well, Rickard explained that they would be able to count on Dornish support as well due to their close ties with the ruling family of Dorne. Not only that however, with Ashara being a friend and lady-in-waiting to Elia Martell, the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms and her brother Arthur, the legendary Kingsguard whose friendship and devout loyalty to Rhaegar Targaryen was widely known, would be able to also have the backing of the Iron Throne as well.

With Dorne and the Iron Throne tied through Brandon, the Stormlands through Lyanna and the Riverlands and the Vale through Eddard, the Reach and the Westerlands would have to sit idly and watch the North become a powerhouse instead of a poor kingdom that the Tyrells and Lannisters abused for their own gains.

Their father had told them that he has spent years perfecting his plan and had told them in no uncertain terms that when completed, the Starks would rival both House Lannister and House Tyrell in power.

It seemed his father, The Old Wolf, thought of everything it seemed. Other than the madness that gripped the Targaryen king and the delusions that plagued the crown prince.

With his plan in jeopardy, Rickard and two hundred Northmen rode south to King's Landing and their fates being sealed as the igniting sparks in the rebellion that would see Robert Baratheon being crowned the new King of the Seven Kingdoms.

But his thoughts returned to his foster father's question with the practiced excuse that was drilled into him by his father, before he left for the Vale. "We called him the Wild Wolf for a reason." Was all Ned said in response.

"And your father approved of this?" Jon questioned further before deciding that it was best not to question if the incredulous looks of both Robert and Ned were anything to go by and funnily enough the multi-colored eyes of Hadrian was the gaze that unnerved him the most. "Hoster will not be happy. He wanted his blood to rule the North."

"Let Hoster stew on it!" Robert proclaimed. "He stalled us at the Twins too long and is getting what he justly deserves." The King turned to his brother in all but blood. "Ned, if he so much as give you trouble you let me know and I will show him the Demon of the Trident!"

"It will not come to that, Robert." Ned assured but he was not so sure. Hoster did stall them at the Twins until he could secure marriage alliances for the Vale and the North. Ned was also was internally glad his father's plan was essentially carried out but at the cost of Dorne, his, Brandon's and Lyanna's life but the results were the same.

"And who is this little shit?" Robert asked in his rather famous coarse language.

Ned steeled himself for a split-second. "This is my bastard, Jon Snow. His mother passed away and I intend to take him to Winterfell with me." He spoke plainly.

Several reactions met the new information, Harry noted.

He saw the golden haired lady, wrinkle her nose in disgust and Hadrian did not need to read her mind to discern that she intended to make a snide remark about the slight of honor.

The younger Stark, however, had to use subtle legilimency on the elder Lannister (as the man had an ever present calculating gaze masking his emotions), to find out what he was thinking. Already Harry found several hastily thought plans on how he could possibly use the bastard to undermine House Stark. Hadrian quickly squashed those where they stood with an added compulsion to keep Jon out of his nefarious plots.

 _If the elder Lion wishes to fight House Stark, my family, with cloaks and daggers then I will respond in kind._ Hadrian thought with a sudden surge of malice.

Jon Arryn on the other hand, could see that he looked slighted upon by having a bastard named in his honor. In Hadrian's opinion, he doubted Ned would care all that much.

Robert, however, laughed rather uproariously in that deep voice of his. "Haha!" He boomed. "The honorable Ned Stark sired a bastard!" If Ned and Hadrian could tell it was meant in good humor, judging by the smiles that graced their faces, then just about the entire court could as well. His voice grew quite then and then grasped Ned on the shoulder who grunted underneath the unexpected force. "I won't lie Ned. The North has suffered, much more than any other house." No one bothered to correct him that the North was not a house, because wherever the Starks went the North followed.

"That is why as one of first decrees as king, I am ordering Moat Cailin to be rebuilt and giving you two million gold dragons to see it done. I know to you it is not much considering how much you lost but I won't allow the North to be caught unawares again and I want you close should I need to call upon you. I am sure Brandon's boy would allow you Cailin." The king gave Hadrian a pointed look who nodded with smile. The Starks and Robert ignored the looks of surprises that were directed at them by members of the court. "Make your pack numerous again, Ned. You deserve it."

Ned nodded flabbergasted at the gift and knew it was pointless to argue. Jon interrupted, "I have to say I do not think-"

He was interrupted when Robert rounded on his foster father. "Jon, I am king! By royal decree, I declare it to be done! I will see to it myself that Ned receives the coin should I have to!" He shouted in rage.

It became clear as day that so long as Robert controlled the throne, the Starks of Winterfell could do as they pleased because if there is one thing that would become readily apparent in the times to come, it was to never insult or question a Wolf in the presence of the Stag King.

 _ **Until Next Time!**_


	3. III

_**Enjoy!**_

The group of Northerner's stayed on the outskirts of King's Landing till the end of the week as planned.

Ned had taken to assigning several loyal Stark men as Hadrian's personal guard along with Lord Dustin whilst in King's Landing so that he could oversee the transfer of gold, he also took the liberty of sending a raven to Winterfell the very night he received the order to rebuild the Moat, to Benjen so as to get stone masons and builders to begin repairing the Moat and it's twenty towers. For now the expenses would come out of the Stark treasury until the funds from the crown treasury could be brought to bear.

Hadrian was busy doing as much exploring of King's Landing. He had wanted to go into the Red Keep but Ned Stark was steadfast in his resolve not to jeopardize his nephew and the North by having him near the Lannisters.

While Harry could have easily changed his mind with the liberal application of magic, Hadrian knew the risks outweighed the benefits of studying the ambient magics of the Keep, considering he had his own massive and powerful reserves of his own magic that only grew and regenerated as he used them and studying something new would be a waste of time when he could stick with reliable arcane spells that he was proficient in but also because he made it a point to try and not use magic on his family unless it was for their own safety.

Instead, he often visited the Street of Steel in search of someone capable of reforging Valyrian steel and other than that memorize the entire city layout, with the help of occlumency, so if he needed to apparate here at a moment's notice he could do so.

He found one man, Tobho Mott of Qohor, in particular claiming he was able to reforge the magical steel and Harry almost doubted it before several other smith also admitted that Mott was able to do so, albeit with begrudging respect.

So in regards to obtaining that particular information, the six year old Lord Paramount of the North, offered to give patronage to him and be made the master smith of Winterfell. The response given was expected. "You cannot expect me to just up and leave do you? What do you take me for, boy? A fool?" The middle-aged man exclaimed. "You are not the first one to offer me this and certainly won't be the last."

Harry nodded, unperturbed. While he could just force the man's compliance with the heavy use of compulsions, he would then have to constantly monitor him and re-apply the compulsions. There was also the chance where the man grow into the compulsions and stay of his own free will but long-term compulsions came with the more likely risk of the person becoming immune to them and, well to put simply, quite angry and spiteful of the caster.

Harry learned this the hard way in his previous life. If he was still in his previous body, he would've had the scars from stab wounds to prove it but the phantom pain was still there as he subconsciously felt about where the scar would be. Snapping himself from his thoughts, he continued. "No, I don't expect you to just leave. You obviously are doing well enough for yourself here in King's Landing especially with the rebellion over." Harry said while admiring a shield. His escort of ten men was outside.

From questioning several smiths, a lot of them had migrated to the capital due to the large amount of soldiers and lords which is work to be had and money to be made.

"However," The young Stark continued. "let us make a deal. When I come into power in the North. I will have to return here to swear fealty. I will make this offer once again. Ten years is a lot of time to reconsider is it not? By then, I expect to have the North recovered from this war and prospering."

The master smith looked skeptically at him before nodding. "Should you prove to be a reliable source of work then I may even reconsider before then but until such a thing happens I will remain here."

"That is all I ask." Harry said holding out his hand for the man to shake which he eventually did. If he didn't get his loyalty willingly by then, he was going to pilfer his mind of the secrets to Valyrian steel then deposit them into another capable smith that he did have the loyalty of.

While the standards of his previous life prevented him from outright doing so, that didn't mean he was against venturing into the moral grey area of getting what he wanted and/or needed.

After all the Ministry for Magic and it's backwards laws didn't exist here.

Ned had specifically called for Hadrian to attend a feast in celebratory victory in honor of the Northmen before they left. It was a rather boisterous affair and Harry was able to slip out unnoticed rather easily followed and escorted by a large group of northern soldiers who had also wanted to go to bed. They would be leaving for the North in the morning anyways.

Harry left the city to the remaining Northmen in the outskirts with a skip in his step.

They would be leaving for Riverrun in the morning and from there to Winterfell to begin the revitalization of the North into what it was meant to be. Hadrian went to sleep with a smile on his face as thoughts went to his plans for the North.

 _Harry soon found himself at the King's Cross Station. He didn't know if it was simply appearing that way simply because it was his rather bland interpretation of limbo, or if Death itself had constructed ,what essentially was it's workplace, to appear that way._

 _His multi-colored irises looking around in surprise as he couldn't fathom why he was here._

" _You are here because we deem it so." A booming voice stated and Harry saw the figure of Death materialized from black smoke. It's form twisting and churning as It's form took shape. Another figure coalesced from a beam of light that seemed to come from nowhere. This figure stood more pronounced than Death as It seemed to be supported by his scythe, if only slightly._

 _The figure was oddly, more feminine in nature as well as what appeared to be a white chitin that was both revealing and slightly sheer above the waist and seemed to be clinging so much to her womanly curves that it might as well have been a second skin. She had hair that was as dark as night and not a shade lighter but also had a golden blind-fold that covered her eyes with full pink lips._

" _This is my counterpart, Fate. She has granted us this one meeting until it is time for dealing with the pretender gods and afterwards when you are ready to embark on your next great journey." Harry decided that for all intents and purposes Death was male. The deity paused for split-second. "I have to warn you that the pretender gods have noticed your presence and while they have not yet begun to move against you, they are wary and have begun plans to remove you from the board should it become necessary."_

" _As Death's champion, " The deity of Fate spoke in a silky smooth voice. While normally, those tones set the hairs on Harry's neck to attention and his instincts on alert, they oddly fit her, in a 'Let's not be offensive to a goddess sort of way'. "you have the right to know when you're enemies are preparing for their eventual clash with gods above them. They will not sit idly by while you gather your wits. They will come at you and when they do, you best be ready to retaliate in kind."_

 _Harry wasn't one to turn down free information. The Slytherin side of him actually appreciating that but he knew this wasn't the only thing they wanted to discuss._

" _You are correct, young Hadrian." Fate announced slightly scaring Harry to which she clarified in an amused voice. "We are deities. Gods in our own right. Being able to read the minds of mortals is but a drop of water in the vast ocean that is our power. You wizards merely use a bastardized version of that by bending the energies to your will."_

 _Death continued for his counterpart. "Your ancestor, Rickard Stark, wishes to have words with you and we have granted his request as it would prove beneficial to our plans." And with a gesture of his hand, where Harry spied the Resurrection Stone resting on his skeletal finger, an older man with a long and stern face, a neatly trimmed beard and greying, dark brown hair that went to his shoulders appeared. He was wearing an ethereal set of steel armor and what looked to be golden spurs along with a wolf pelt cloak. The Old Wolf's grey eyes bore a measuring gaze into his grandson._

" _You look so much like young Brandon." The ethereal being finally spoke. The former Stark lord paused before he gestured towards Death and Fate. "These two tell me that I do not have much time so I will endeavor to take advantage of it._

 _In the study of Winterfell, there is a hidden compartment behind the painting of the Direwolf, which has been pinned there for centuries if not millennia. All Lords of Winterfell and their heirs know of this compartment. In my haste and stupidity to get to King's Landing to free your father, it escaped my thoughts that Eddard may also become the Lord of Winterfell, it would've been lost for countless generations due to my ignorance." He stated with a stern and self-berating voice. He gathered his thoughts before continuing. "But the Old Gods have decided to allow me a chance at redemption. In that compartment are documents that have the many locations of vast deposits of gold, silver and iron in the Northern Mountains, enough to rival the Lannisters."_

" _Your plan on allowing the North to expand it's prowess relied on the mines didn't it?" Hadrian interrupted._

 _Rickard nodded. "House Goldstark was to be the new cadet branch to be founded with the help of the mountain clans of the North, who are a third of the North's population, with their help the Starks would be able to easily field a hundred thousand trained men in time's of need and not the measly forty thousand. House Goldstark would specialize in the procurement of those metals."_

" _Gold and silver. That can't be it, can it?" Hadrian prodded while a light smile graced the usually stoic Stark man._

" _No, in the Lonely Hills, it's been reported that there are a few mines of jewels, more likely diamonds and rubies and emeralds, from what I have read. The Wolfswood being for the most part untouched thus giving us an untapped source of strong timber to build a new Northern Fleet? Perhaps two? It is only suitable that a son of a Brandon rebuilds our strength at sea." The elder Stark stated with a knowing look directed to his grandson. "The mountains south of the Wolfswood have even larger deposits of iron."_

" _How did you plan to convince the mountain clans to help?" Harry questioned._

" _The mountain clans are more civilized than the ones in the Vale. They know that we don't lord over them and will come into the fold once you give them reason to." Rickard stated plainly. "The exact details have never been a concern." The deities who had stepped away from the two conversing relatives returned._

" _Time to go, Rickard." Death stated to which the elder Stark nodded._

" _Hadrian, do not let anyone get in your way, show them what it means to be a Wolf of the North." And with that parting thought Rickard Stark, the Old Wolf, faded from view._

 _The was a respectful silence before Death broke it. "Rickard is a good man. You would do well not to let a man like him down."_

 _Hadrian responded with his own line of thought. "The days ahead of me are going to be busy."_

 _The two beings nodded, if only slightly, at that. "My counterpart has gathered what remained in the vaults beneath the bank of Gringotts in your past life, however, it amounted to what would be a two million gold dragons in your new world as the rest was seized by the mortal governments. He has placed the gold in Winter treasury at Winterfell." Fate interjected._

" _Why not just summon me a philosopher's stone? Or just even more gold?" Harry asked genuinely curious._

 _Death chuckled darkly at this while Fate answered slightly condescendingly. "In Death's embrace, do you find riches and glory? In life you may, but Death finds everyone equally whether you are the most powerful king or the lowliest peasant. For him to give you riches would be against his very nature, he bent the rules by giving you the last of Wizarding Britain's gold as an inheritance of sorts." Fate continued on. "Fate has no champions as everyone must achieve their destiny no matter how they may try to avoid it. Just as Tom Marvolo Riddle was destined to perish by your hand, you were destined to take the mantle of the Chosen One."_

" _Our time grows short, Young Hadrian." Death interrupted and Fate nodded. "Do what you must to strengthen your position and when the time comes, the agents of the pretender gods will die by your hand, and then these farce for gods will be taken by mine."_

 _Hadrian nodded and as the light of the King's Cross Station faded from view, so too did the deities of Death and Fate._

Hadrian sat upright with a suddenness that would disturb most people as he brandished a steel dagger he kept under a pillow and nearly slit the neck of the man waking him only did sheer curiosity of why in the world he was being waken at the early stages of dawn was the man spared his life.

"Sorry, milord." A man by the name of Devon, one of the Stark men-at-arms appointed to his personal guard, stated with an amused smile. His expression did not camouflage the fear in his eyes however. "Lord Eddard Stark wants to get a move on. He says you are to be ready in an hour."

"Thanks, Devon." Harry stated bleary eyed. He was so glad that his vision was fixed when born into this world. "Get my horse ready, please?"

"Aye, my lord." The man quickly left, not that Harry blamed him. His cool and calculating demeanor often frightened people and coupled with the fact that Hadrian pulled a knife on the man when he was just waking up tended to have a fearful effect on those involved.

Harry did not dally. He quickly changed, seeing as the their next major stop would be at the Crossroads Inn and after that Riverrun and then onto the final leg of the journey from Moat Cailin to Winterfell where he could finally get his plans to be kicked into high gear.

He strapped a short-sword to his waist and a small mail hauberk with a fitted set of boiled leather armor with the Direwolf sigil stitched into the both shoulders, courtesy of Robert Baratheon who took an instant liking to Hadrian when he unnerved several Lannister soldiers at the Red Keep the night before by simply staring at them.

The Stark heir was quite eager and was getting rather impatient and the night before, in his honest opinion, was a blatant waste of time.

After what seemed like forever, the massive caravan of five hundred plus Northmen began journeying home for the first time in two years and for a few of them would be seeing home for the first time.

It was a two weeks later when they had arrived at Riverrun. Harry spent most of the time learning more about the North from his uncle and entertaining young Jon who always either gurgled happily in his arms or fell asleep in them.

Jon was a relatively quiet baby other than that. He had heard that the wet-nurse was actually incredibly happy about this not that Hadrian blamed her. He had, after all, heard how much of a chore taking care of a baby actually was by numerous women both in this life and the one before.

When they arrived at Riverrun, they were greeted with fanfare as Ned Stark was a war-hero for the rebels. His lady wife Catelyn Tully looking both relieved and extremely happy while holding a babe in her arms, one called Robb in honor of Ned's hot-headed friend. Hoster Tully called for a feast in their honor to which they greatly appreciated especially Hadrian as he was growing tired of bread and salted and dried jerky with the occasional rabbit, he was able to spot and kill.

The next morning came and went and Ned had delayed telling Catelyn of little Jon and himself. A small part of Hadrian was going to enjoy watching Ned getting chewed out for fathering a bastard and not immediately telling Catelyn about it.

While he knew what to expect from Hoster Tully of his existence, he particularly did not know what to expect of the lady wife of the honorable Ned Stark. The Stark heir had seen Catelyn studying him at the celebratory feast and could see the confused glances both her and Hoster sent his way when he sat at the table beside Ned on the raised dais and while he technically supposed to be sitting to the right of Hoster Tully as he was technically the Lord Stark of Winterfell, he would rather leave that sport for Ned to take care for the time being. Hadrian had left before he could be caught in an interrogation.

Ned had brought both Catelyn Tully and her father to the training yard where he was busy shooting arrows into a target fifty meters away. He hit a bulls-eye when Ned cleared his throat to get his attention. Hadrian paid him no mind and instead released another arrow that split that same arrow in half and embedded itself in the bulls-eye once again. He would not let his focus be swayed by anyone. To anyone else, it would've looked like childish rebellion, but Harry hoped that subconscious thoughts took hold that he would not be controlled.

Hadrian did not need to use magic to know that they were already uncomfortable. "Hadrian." Ned's words finally gaining his nephew's attention.

Hadrian slowly turned. His gaze unfazed at the uppity expressions of Catelyn and Hoster. "Uncle." Hadrian deliberately answered. He had to contain his smirk while he mentally applauded his Slytherin side.

Say what you will about the Tully family but, the ones he has encountered thus far, they were quick to deduce what he meant by just that one word.

Hoster looked as if he had sucked on a lemon and turned an impressive shade of red while Catelyn's jaw hung loosely, a stark (Hadrian internally chuckled at that) contrast to her proper lady upbringing.

Both of the Tullys snapped their attention to Ned who stood firm under the glare given to him by the head of the Tully family. The Wolf would not buckle to the Fish. Catelyn on the other hand looked furious at him but for different reasons. First, it was the bastard and now Brandon's son. In all actuality the fact that Ned Stark had a bastard rather than the Wild Wolf's son, legitimate or not.

She expected it from the Wild Wolf and because of that Catelyn disliked Brandon and preferred Ned over the older Stark.

"He's a bastard." Hoster proclaimed and immediately Ned rounded on him. Hadrian internally smiled at the unrest he caused with just his presence. He went back to shooting arrows, the young Stark would intervene if necessary but he knew Ned Stark would not let his brother be disgraced in that way.

He would later figure out that it was his aura of magic caused others to passively be slightly uncomfortable in his presence should he allow it, unless they had the mental fortitude to combat it.

"He is not." Ned barked, the wolfs blood in him taking over slightly it was not flowing in him as strong as it was in both of his deceased siblings. "Brandon married Ashara Dayne in secret. He would not let his fate be controlled. My father was furious but did not want to anger Dorne and the Iron Throne by having the marriage annulled."

Hoster was visibly seething but held his tongue and stalked off. In the elder's Fish's mind, he figured he might be able to get rid off Hadrian rather easily to suffer some accident, that or control the North through the regency of Ned and subtly start having the North rely more on more on the Riverlands for food. _The boy will listen to Ned._ He thought. It wouldn't do for the North to buy more from the Reach.

Unbeknownst to all those present however, Hadrian would not allow the North be bound to anyone any longer. Harry loosed an arrow and this time it pierced an apple he had set above the target a few moments prior.

Catelyn only scoffed as Ned looked at her, expecting a scolding on his brother's behalf. She left afterwards stating she wanted to check on baby Robb.

The soft-spoken man moved towards Hadrian and stepped into a relaxed posture behind his nephew as he loosed another arrow. Hadrian was at this point was attempting to turn the target into a new arrow quiver as about two dozen arrows were sticking close to the center.

"I've been meaning to speak to you." Ned said aloud, garnering the attention of the younger Stark. Harry turned with a slight smile on his face, his multi-colored irises blinking innocently at the Quiet Wolf. "You are a lot smarter than people your age. I have met lords with less wit about then you do."

Hadrian nodded but his face contorted into a confused expression. He did not see where he was going with this.

His uncle continued at the expression, his thick accent making it sounding gruff and forced but Harry knew it was anything but. "As regent I am prepared to give you the freedom to do as you please with the North." Harry's eyes widened. "However, any and all ideas you have regarding its future will be run by me. If I feel that it is not possible or not for the betterment of the North then I will countermand it. You will attend lessons with the maester for two hours every day and you will drill with the Master-At-Arms in the evening for two hours an hour before supper every day. At the end of everyday, you will tell me what you have learned." He paused and Harry noted that he looked every bit the responsible parent despite his rather youthful appearance. "When the Moat is repaired and I feel that you are capable running the North without my oversight, I will allow you to do so, however should I feel you are not ready, I will stay at Winterfell till you are able to do so."

Hadrian nodded, prepared to work for his inheritance. The North would be a different place by the time he was done with it.

 _ **Until Next Time!**_


	4. IV - Catalyst

_**Before I get started I would like to say I appreciate all the support for the story.**_

 _ **Now several reviews and PMs have questioned me regarding the pairing and to be honest I do not have one in mind, only that it will NOT be Daenerys.**_

 _ **I feel that I am horrible at writing romance but will give it my best shot.**_

 _ **Other than that!**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

After the revelation of Hadrian's parentage, the atmosphere in Riverrun was cold, for lack of a better term.

Hoster had taken to doing all he could to proclaim Hadrian a bastard of Brandon Stark. The elder man was also attempting to both subtly and outright convince Eddard Stark to take the lordship. Ned and the Lord of Riverrun have come to blows more than once.

Hadrian, however, had a meaningful conversation with Catelyn Stark the evening that it was revealed that he was Brandon Stark's son which started out in a surprising way. "Lord Stark." She addressed him at the evening meal. Had Hoster been there he would have made a good impression of a tomato and had Ned been there, he would have responded out of reflex.

However, Harry and only the Blackfish were there. Hadrian nodded and gestured for her to continue. She had acknowledged him as the rightful heir to the North. Whether she liked it or not mattered little to Harry and until he had gotten a feel for her attitude he would only allow her leave to call him Harry when she realized her place.

"I wish to discuss the bastard of my lord husband." She stated clearly.

While Hadrian would not allow, under any circumstances, the belittling of Jon, he would hear what she had to say but would stop her should she overstep. "Then let us discuss Jon."

"I do not want him at Winterfell." She said. "I do not want a reminder of my lord husband's unfaithfulness to be there."

Harry could see her point but gestured for her to continue. When she didn't Harry nodded and responded. "I understand Aunt Catelyn. However, I will not allow a babe, who is as much as a cousin to me as little Robb is, to not be treated unfairly. Do not mistake this as me completely accepting Jon. Should he overstep his status and attempt to take what is rightfully Robb's, he will be dealt with. I do not expect you like him, however, I would see you treat him fairly and cordially with your opinions kept to yourself on him." Hadrian paused to gather his thoughts. "Do this and when Moat Cailin is rebuilt and your family moved there I will consider keeping Jon at Winterfell."

It was several long moments before she sighed. "I can agree to those terms, my lord."

Hadrian smiled albeit not a broad one. "Please, call me Harry when in private." The Blackfish lightly chuckled and instead of speaking he continued to eat merrily.

However, needless to say, the Starks of Winterfell were none to pleased at the blatant power grab by Hoster Tully. Catelyn, after being redeemed through her attempts at being cordial with Ned and not overtly arguing with him, seemed also off-put by her father's aggressive attempt at political maneuvering.

So after a rather short and cold farewell two days after the revelation, the Northern party left Riverrun. Nothing of note happened during the two weeks journey to Moat Cailin. Hadrian had taken to riding ahead with about two dozen Stark men to scout out the Kingsroad for suitable stopping points and to hunt.

Considering Harry being incredibly good with a bow, he shot down quite a number of pheasants on the way, for his family and some for the ones in his party as well as Howland Reed, who joined them for evening meals. Lord Dustin preferred drinking with his men, not that he blamed him with the gold he had looted he had gotten a handsome storage of Arbor Gold.

While, when questioned that is, most of it would be going to Lady Dustin as a gift, he stated that it was best to taste the product first to make sure it was of good quality that is.

Harry would be lying if he said he didn't procure a wineskin to test the quality of the wine himself.

The five hundred Northmen stayed in the moving castle of House Reed where Hadrian had made a rather interesting discovery of the crannogmen. He had an idea, from what he expected of the swamplands in and around the Neck.

But nothing of this scale!

From what he had gathered and deduced from Howland was that House Reed had employed a set of rather ancient magics and from the most part that was the case. Ancient magic permeated throughout the living castle like a mist of water waiting to be used, that reminded him eerily of Hogwarts. The ancient magic was more like wards though, from what he could deduce at least only those of the Neck could even hope to locate the 'moving' castle and any with ill-intent would never find it. The inherent illusions and disillusionment charms made the ancestral seat of the Reeds into what appeared to be a primordial version of the Fidelus Charm.

After that, the Reeds and crannogmen were a rather interesting bunch. They had a small and humble feast for the Northerners as was the way of those in and above the Neck. Nothing too extravagant but enough to acknowledge and pay the proper respects to those involved, something Harry could get used to and rather enjoyed the event.

Exchanging thanks and farewells, the Northern party diminished in number but not at all in spirit.

They came to stop at Moat Cailin. Here Harry was able to wrangle a duo of stags for dinner which were locked in a heated exchange of blows. Harry and two others watched the exchange with diluted interest until Harry grew bored and quickly loosed an arrow that pierced the eye of the younger buck while the young marksman quickly drew another and plugged the elder stag in the eye.

Harry thought nothing more of it while walking back and the Northmen were certainly glad for the meat.

The guards assigned to escorting Harry to his tent were dismissed at the feast as they were in friendly territory now and Harry loudly proclaimed any bandits wishing to try their luck here would be squandered and would face the might of the best of the North. Many voiced their agreement and Harry spied a proud glint in his uncle's eye.

Harry internally preened at that but quickly subdued it. He may have been starved of attention in his early years of his previous life but right now he needed to focus and not act like a child.

But the reason why he didn't need guards posted outside his room is because he would be beginning his plan, here at the Moat, where builders and stone masons were already working hard at rebuilding. They would stay there for a week and that was more than enough time to do what he needed to do.

As soon as Hadrian knew that most of the Northmen here were asleep, he snuck out of his room after casting a quick disillusionment charm on himself and silencing charm on his feet. He would first need to find a rather large boulder in a small clearing.

After about an hour of searching he found one protruding from the ground. _This will do_. Harry thought to himself.

The young Stark walked the perimeter of the small clearing and with a gesture here and there, exactly three rocks about the size of a head floating in a triangle formation. He muttered an incantation and a sizzling fire began carving into the three rocks. He continued to chant quietly as another fire erupted on the large stone in the middle of the small clearing. The sizzling stopped a few moments after he had stopped the incantation, several perfectly carved symbols swirling around the large boulder while the three rocks floating around in the perimeter looked like miniature replicas of the same.

Harry approached the large boulder and placed the palm of his hand against the oddly cold surface, considering mere moments ago the entire rock was ablaze. A blue aura engulfed in his hand and eldritch energies in the form of lightning sprang from his arm and began striking the boulder.

After several moments of this contact, Harry would've collapsed had he been not using the boulder as support, he had expended that much energy and magic.

With wide gesture, a gust of wind was swept in the forest, not hard enough to warrant a lot of attention but enough to send chills down the spines of everyone in and around Moat Cailin. The ambient magic was beginning its beneficial work.

He shook his head and his tunic was doused in sweat as was his forehead. He gathered his thoughts before looking at his handiwork. He nodded before with a gesture of his hand several permanent wards sprang to life. Powerful disillusionment wards and confundus charms that anyone who stepped within fifty feet of this clearing would not only see an incredible thicket of trees but also have the urge to turn away from it with a powerful sense of dread, he doubled the confundus effect and for good measure tripled it from there as it wouldn't do for some adventurous soul to wander here.

Given that it was decently out of the way from the Moat and away from major footpaths, it was unlikely anyone would find it in the first place.

Three floating rocks with fire-carved runes and a large boulder that looked like it just went through the ringer with a dragon would garner some unneeded attention.

He wearily stumbled back into his tent and collapsed in partially magically induced exhaustion. It helped that he didn't suffer it fully as he would be as useful to anyone as a wolf with no teeth was useful to its pack.

He rested on a nearby chair and small wooden table, where a small tray of dried venison and a tankard of water sat.

He thought about the runic array he created. It was actually several rune schemes he learned while traveling with wizards in Greenland. The farmers used this and it had allowed them to warm a piece of land enough to melt snow, and to make the soil incredibly fertile. As the Statute of Secrecy was in place they couldn't just warm the entirety of Greenland but they did it enough to create comfortable communities with the help of similar charms on Diagon Ally and other major wizarding districts.

For the North it was much of the same concept but on a much, _much_ grander scale. Hadrian's plan for this was to go to major houses ancestral seats' and creating the array and then connecting them all to a ward stone at Winterfell so as that they would all work in conjunction with one another.

Studying runes in with Egyptian scholars turned out to be a blessing. It was almost like learning a second language and after coming with the sudden inspiration of combining multiple ward schemes into a massive boulder while using a three stone runic stabilizing array, he realized that essentially he was writing orders on rock. Creating the runes with fire, with the element being a purifier and the symbol of a hearth, allowed the earth warming effect to take hold.

In essence he was creating an magical ley line network that had the express purpose of climate control. Not only would harvests be able to be done two to three times a year but as well as double the yield. He thanked his lucky stars that his aunt had forced him to garden and to make her flowers, vegetable and fruit garden to not only make them look immaculate but also give good yield thus in turn forcing him to read on agriculture, otherwise he wouldn't have a clue as to what he was doing.

He would have to go every night that he was here to imbue the stone with more magic and on the last night finish it off with, not only a binding ritual but also a ritual that would essentially allow it to remain active indefinitely so long as it wasn't destroyed. Hadrian finished the small meal that he had taken into the stone tower with him and then silently fell asleep.

For the next five days Hadrian found himself in the clearing as much as he dared without drawing attention to himself. He wanted to make sure it was safe and continued adding the eldritch energy within himself to the massive runic stone whenever possible to not only strengthen the array but to also experiment.

After attending each lesson of the North with Uncle Ned and sometimes Lord Dustin, one in etiquette with Aunt Catelyn (as she wanted to know what he had learned thus far) and drilling with several soldiers who sparred with him.

Seeing as how he had learned some underhanded Dornish tactics that caused some bloody noses, he won some spars against a few of the younger men, which only meant good things in the future regarding his skill considering he was only six name days old but looked like a boy of ten.

Ned had told him that he took after both his father and grandfather in that regard. Hadrian also figured that his Dayne blood, who were naturally tall people, also gave him an advantage.

He was rather able to hold his own for a little bit against the more veteran men but was ultimately knocked down to his ass a couple dozen times.

Ned had spoken to the Master Builder on the specifics of the Moat, which were immediately smoothed over. From the estimation the Moat would be able to be lived in by the end of next year at the earliest and one and half years by the latest if no major difficulties arose. The Moat and the outlying town would be completed in almost double that time.

On the last day, Hadrian Stark soon found himself in the clearing again examining his handiwork. The grass in the circle was already thick, around five inches tall, and a healthy green with some flowers mixed in.

Harry, with a cutting spell, had cut some wood off nearby which was also browner indicating its health and incredibly strong. He also noted that the floating stabilizing stones were giving off a dim reddish almost orange glow around them. He nodded to himself, satisfied with the work and committed the place to memory should he need to apparate here to make alterations to the scheme.

After all, he was going to make it a dozen, if not more times and each one would need to be able to work with the other.

It was already midnight when he begun the final touches to the ward scheme. He was up examining the large boulder before nodding to himself content with his work. He withdrew a small steel dagger and swiped it across his palm.

He quietly hissed at the sharp and sudden pain but held his bleed hand over the three major runes that were formed in a triangle. An amplifying rune, a locking rune and a strengthening rune. Hadrian let his hand bleed seven drops over each rune.

As soon as the last drop fell and made contact with the strengthening rune, he felt the ambient magic in the air grow tenfold and the three stones, their glow being a dim hue now a bright lantern before dying down back to their original brightness. Harry genuinely smiled and almost leapt in joy as his childish mindset took over. He composed himself, however, but still let out a child's giggle. The young Stark quickly healed his hand with a healing spell and left the clearing, his work here done for now.

* * *

The ride back to Winterfell was one filled with anticipation. Lord Dustin had left a little ways past Moat Cailin for Barrowton but not before extracting a promise from the young Lord Stark that he would soon visit.

Hadrian promised he would see him soon when he toured the North with his uncle as company which would be held for the beginning of the new year. The harvest feast still needed to be held.

The young Stark garnered a surprised look from Ned but nothing more was said.

Hadrian would later find out from admission that Ned hadn't thought that he would want to tour the North until he was older and so hadn't thought much of it.

Hadrian, after entering Winterfell, quickly took stock of the treasury and the journals of the previous Lord Starks. It wasn't until the end of the end of the week until his uncle approached him.

The young Stark was sitting with his legs dangling from the walkway into the open air with his arms wrapped around two support beams while reading a journal from the Bloody Wolf that was Cregan Stark. The Hand of the King and what became known as the Hour of the Wolf painted a gruesome and respectful picture of how ruthless a Stark could be when provoked and took his duty seriously.

The Northmen that stayed behind were used as spies by the Lord of Winterfell under the guise that they did not want to burden their families during the winter! That had surprised him. Apparently Starks played the game while leading the others to believe them to be incapable due to be too savage or remote to even know of it. He figured his grandfather was the only one to do so.

The man became known as the Bloody Wolf from then and cemented his place into the history of Westeros. Apparently, since the Lannisters had fought against the 'blacks', many spies were sent to the Lannister mines to see the status of their wealth and while it was still incredibly abundant it was slowly but surely running dry.

It was only a matter of time before the Lannisters ran out of what made them powerful.

Hadrian's progress on the central ward-stone was coming along slowly. He needed at first to find a suitable host for the runes that would be engraved on it and it needed to be in Winterfell, preferably inside the central keep so as to maximize the effectiveness of the stabilization wards. He first thought about have the heart tree inside Godswood but he knew that having engravings on the sacred tree would trigger an outrage and he couldn't very well use disillusionment charms on something this large.

It didn't help that it had to be something that was as much as tune in the land _and_ people as well so as further stabilize the massive undertaking of the changing the climate. _Wouldn't want the whole damn thing to blow up the entire North._ The reborn wizard added mentally as he continued to read the journal.

"Harry." The Quiet Wolf spoke deeply in his baritone voice as he laid his hands on the railing. The older Stark watched as two Stark guardsmen sparred. The raven haired boy looked up at his uncle who captured the Stark brooding look in spades.

"Yes, uncle?" Hadrian closed the journal to give his uncle his full attention.

"I think it would please you to know that Benjen has chosen not to take the black." Ned spoke as he met his nephew's gaze. "I think you guilted him enough into staying."

Harry looked away at that and explained himself. "Our family should stay together as much as it can." He paused. "The entire Stark line was almost wiped out in the rebellion, uncle. As much as I would've loved to have Benjen make a name for himself. The Wall is not the place to do it, at least not in it's current state."

Eddard nodded at that. "I've sent what builders we have left to establish a holdfast for him in the Northern Mountains." Eddard gathered his thoughts in what he said next. "The envoys my father sent have also returned with news."

Hadrian perked up at that but allowed his uncle to continue and he did. "Their clan leaders are coming to treat with us here."

"All of them?" Hadrian skeptically asked.

"All of them. They come within the moon. I expect you to be able to treat with them effectively." Eddard said.

"Don't worry uncle. I won't let grandfather's planning go to waste." Hadrian stated, after all the younger wolf was a pivotal asset to that plan. There was a content pause before Eddard spoke up again. "Catelyn is still angry with you. Would you tell me what that is about?"

Hadrian actually chuckled at this which caught Ned off-guard. "She may be furious with me all she wants but I won't allow a sept to be built in Winterfell, one is enough in the Moat and White Harbor and she can worship privately in her room until you take your leave there."

At Ned's questioning look, Harry explained himself. "We would lose respect with other northern lords if we were to allow a sept here in the ancestral seat where the Winter Kings once ruled. For thousands of years the Starks have kept to the Old Gods and will continue to do so. I won't allow a southron lady dictate who we choose to worship."

"Were you not raised to worship the Seven?" Eddard ventured. Harry had a feeling his gloomy uncle was testing him.

"My mother knew I would be going to Winterfell as the heir to the North and knew that worshiping them here was taboo. It was not like she kept to them much herself. Sure, she and I prayed but that is about the extent of what we did and mostly it was to the Old Gods and not the New." Besides, Harry now knew the only god that really mattered was Death and Death couldn't care less whether one worshipped him or not.

Eddard nodded but asked no more as sighed once again. His nephew Hadrian, had already put together plans on increasing the production of food and had come forward to him on rebuilding the Northern fleets, that it was merely the first week that he was at Winterfell and a boy of six baffled the Quiet Wolf.

Not only were these plans plausible but Ned saw them for what they were. A way to get the North more independent than ever before.

And Ned Stark also appreciated that he was also acting like a boy as well and not taking his lordly duties to the extreme as he had expected when he began conversing with Ned about the private plans Rickard Stark had for the North through both Brandon and Hadrian.

Ned often saw him sitting as he was now, a book in hand or climbing to some obscene place and reading there without a care in the world.

Granted, Ned knew that many of the books he read were from Maester Luwin's collection as well as Winterfell's own library and as such didn't carry that much of fantasy or play writes but more academic and historical information.

Now Ned would've had him playing with others as well smallfolk or not so that he could interact with others his age but seeing as how the harvest was about to come in, all hands were on deck to get it gathered.

It didn't help that Hadrian was also born at such an awkward time as well. There were hardly any his age and the only young two he could think of was Smalljon Umber and Alys Karstark, both of whom were a year younger than Hadrian.

He hoped Hadrian didn't close himself off from people.

* * *

Hadrian sat upon the slightly raised dais with his uncle as regent to his right and maester Luwin on his left.

The younger Stark didn't know how to feel about the order of the maesters. First, Harry knew that the centralization of knowledge could lead to horrible things and secondly, the selfish pricks that were archmaesters were probably so senile and old that their ball sacks were dragging along the stone floors with an undiluted self-importance.

Hadrian figured that he had the right to hold a particular grudge against senile old men who had nothing better to do with their lives than control information and manipulate others.

Harry was at least assured that Luwin was loyal to the Stark family as he held no familial ties to anyone of import and only had joined the order during a winter so as to have a constant source of food, the manipulating fools thought they sent someone that was loyal to them and only them when the old man knew to appreciate where the food on his plate came from. He didn't specifically tell Hadrian that but with the use of a bit of legilimency, there wasn't much to hide.

The younger Stark shook his head of those thoughts. Now was the time to bring the mountain clans into the fold and not think of murderous thoughts of the grey rats.

Around him were only four pairs of the household guard (as Ned would not allow any less with a probable hostile people coming to meet with them considering the subject they were going to speak to them with), their round shields and spears and grim facades bringing a reassuring feeling to him. While the northern clans and Starks of Winterfell have always been on good albeit cool terms, he was presenting something no other Stark, that Hadrian knew so far, had attempted before.

Sitting in front of him were various papers detailing information of the clans of the north mountains and the small incomplete journal of Rickard Stark, along with his own which he had already made a few entries.

Ned was informed that the clan chieftains would be arriving that day, who were eager to meet the new Stark of Winterfell. While the Ned would've wanted a feast held in their honor, Hadrian vetoed the idea immediately stating that _'I have a feeling that they would appreciate it more if we got straight to business before eating.'_

Harry was legitimately guessing at this as he was going off of northern ideals. He knew he hated feasts already as his grand-uncle Dayne insisted on having one at least one every two moons and he had attended several before even arriving to the North.

He hated the idea of standing on ceremony everywhere he went but he knew the benefits of such a thing severely outweighed the consequences.

Luckily for him, such a thing really only mattered only in the south. Here in the North, lords and just about everyone above the Neck only respected strength and wisdom.

He was correct in that regard as several rough looking men came in escorted by a herald who quickly announced Harry as the Lord Stark and Ned as regent and afterwards named all the clan leaders quickly and efficiently.

If Hadrian remembered correctly, which he did then there was supposed to be forty clan leaders. Here there were only six. The young Stark knew this to be more of a convenience than anything as they probably picked the most influential and strongest of chieftains to represent all their interests.

It would only help the Wolf of Winterfell.

"Welcome lords of the Northern Mountains." Hadrian started as he stood up and stepped down the dais to their level, surprising Ned and startling Luwin with the abrupt and unplanned movement.

Even at Harry's tall stature for his age he only came up to the shortest clan lord's sternum. The wolf still looked to them with respect but not fall to the stone gazes that met him on even ground. Chieftain Wull grunted in amusement as did the other older men as they continued to measure Harry.

"I am going to get straight down to business. I am sure scouts of various clans have seen the work of a holdfast at the base of the Northern Mountains and that it may even be intruding on some land that is owned by the clans." Harry began. He accomplished a few things with this greeting. One, he acknowledged their own prowess in gaining knowledge and indicated that they were not at all stupid. Two, Harry made himself not one to waste time on pleasantries and three, the younger wolf acknowledged that they also had claim to the lands they were using.

The Chieftains barked a laugh and the Wull spoke in a deep booming voice. "I like this Stark of Winterfell. Balls of solid steel you have. Not many would stand up to me like that much less a small whelp like you."

Hadrian smiled as well. "I invited you all here to Winterfell to discuss a new era. One where the North will rise above all others. We are all descendants of the First Men and all adhere to the Old Gods, you and your people moreso than others. I want your people to be part of this era of prosperity. One where winters aren't the heralds of death and famine but survival and heartiness. I offer new towns built of stone for shelter in your land, means for your families and people to survive the harsh winters so that all may live, steel weapons and equipment to defend yourselves with. All that I ask is that you pledge your fealty to the Starks of Winterfell and fully commit to fighting just wars alongside us."

"You ask us to bend the knee to you. A boy?" The chieftain of the Norreys exclaimed.

Hadrian faced him. "I could give two shits about if you bent the knee or bent your arm. All I ask is that you give loyalty to us so long as a Stark is alive and in turn receive prosperity. Your word is good enough for me."

There was a pregnant silence as they thought upon his words, Hadrian standing firm under the stone gazes of the chieftains. It was several minutes of such silence until Wull nodded and grunted in acknowledgement. "You speak honestly and bluntly, little Stark." He sighed. "I can not see reason for you to deceive us. I am honored to say that so long as you fulfill your promise, the people of Clan Wull will henceforth agree to your terms."

And one by one the clans of the Northern Mountains became apart of a North that has never been so unified.

The night of Hadrian bringing the Mountain Clans into the was fold was one worth definitely quite a few pages in his journal. joys the many new lords of the North, Hadrian, Ned and Maester Luwin went over the final details of their plans.

Builders, miners and just about anyone looking for work would be sent throughout the Northern Mountains to build the holdfasts, castles and towns for their people. Considering the amount of labor and work to be had, Ned said he would write to Robert to send whoever looking for work in King's Landing to Winterfell and placed a double order on the amount of foodstuffs from both the Riverlands and the Reach so as to feed the newcomers. It would put a significant dent in Winterfell's coffers and push back plans for a Northern navy on the west coast a year until the gold mines began churning out the profits but it would be worth it to cement the loyalty of the clans should any conflict erupt.

The harvest feast would be in two months and Hadrian Stark had a lot of work ahead of him.

* * *

The harvest feast was a loud and boisterous affair.

And Hadrian enjoyed himself immensely.

Here Harry met Alys Karstark and her three younger brothers, two of whom, Harrion and Torrhen, being twins and Eddard being the youngest. He interacted more with Smalljon Umber who was, amazingly, slightly taller than Hadrian himself.

Considering that, they both sort of dwarfed Alys in that regard but Hadrian knew she'd grow into a beautiful woman. Still though, she was awfully cute when she crossed her arms in a pout when both young boys patted her head in affection and her midnight colored hair often got in the way of one of her eyes.

Hadrian and Smalljon both missed the light pink coloring her cheeks though.

The younger Stark, however, was more nervous than before. He would be meeting with all the lords and he was busy setting privacy wards. His mother had expressed that no matter how safe you think you are or how private the conversation is, whoever wanted to manipulate the North would learn of it.

That is to say if Hadrian Stark would allow it.

No one needed to know the strength of the North nor the plans of upliftment he had in store for it. At the very least the Northern lords needed to know but even that was tenuous at best. He knew Roose Bolton was definitely untrustworthy. His cold and cunning demeanor along with his malicious silence just sent warning bells off in Harry's mind. The Ryswells were a sort of wild card in his regard. While Barbrey was wed to Lord Dustin, who was loyal to House Stark, Lord Ryswell also had a daughter once married to Lord Bolton and considering Lord Ryswell was known to always attempt to advance his house's standing, should the Starks appear weak they would definitely back the Boltons.

Other than that everyone was loyal. The Dustins and Umbers being adamant supporters of Ned Stark and the Karstarks being a cadet branch of the Starks themselves guaranteed their loyalty should a power play be sought. The Mormonts were almost zealous in their loyalty to the Starks and were absolute with the tie through Benjen and wherever they went the Glovers and Tallharts followed. The Manderlys had nothing but gratitude and appreciation for the Starks since the exile from the Reach and where they went the Lockes quickly scrambled after them.

Considering the loyalty the noble houses of the North had for the Starks, it was no wonder the saying of 'Wherever the Starks go, the North Follows,' became a thing.

Hadrian was shaken from his thoughts when the Quiet Wolf cleared his throat and banged his reasonably sized fist against the wooden table garnering all the lords' attention. "My lords, there is business to be discussed. I will not waste anymore of your nor my own time dallying."

"Aye, Ned! My wife misses my company!" Greatjon boomed with a chuckle.

Dustin was quick in his retort as he stood with a broad smile across his face. "Aye! Lady Umber has been missing it for many years!" He was met with a chorus of laughs as Greatjon laughed along. Hadrian smiled at the interaction. Had his grand uncle Beric been told that, blood would have been spilt that very night or the insulter would have met a very unfortunate accident.

Hadrian caught a glance at the Lord of the Dreadfort and saw no hint of amusement in his eyes. The young wolf would chance a bit of legilimency later.

He needed to know whether he would need to…cut the stem so to speak of House Bolton, now or later.

"My lords!" Hadrian stood, his voice easily carrying across the great hall of Winterfell. He had gestured openly, doing a wandless weak compulsion to make them quiet down. He allowed his aura to take an uncomfortable but commanding effect on those present. "I know it is my first time standing before you in assembly. Had the Targaryens not slighted House Stark then I would've been raised in the North alongside you all, however, the dragons responsible are dead and justice is had and for that I thank you." He spoke clearly. Harry received a booming cheer.

"This Stark of Winterfell owes a debt to all of you for avenging my family and the Lannisters are not the only ones to pay them. My honor demands it." Harry began and sudden silence gripped the lords as they listened with enraptured vehemence at the tone he took. "Plans are in motion to make the North what it has always been destined to become. Already the mountain clans of the Northern Mountains have been brought unto the fold and mines of gold, iron and silver are underway to being built with the supervision of the newly minted House of Goldstark under the head of my uncle Benjen Goldstark." Hadrian gestured to his uncle who stood and slightly nodded to all the lords present and sat again.

There was a few murmurs of excitement at the thought of gold being found.

Harry was quick to silence them as he began speaking. "I call upon Lord Umber and Lord Bolton to step forward."

The two men did so. The Greatjon towering over them all already while seated. Roose took a more hesitant gait to approach the young boy. When they were both side by side Harry began once again. "I have reason to believe there are vast deposits of jewels within the Lonely Hills. I have surveyors with the knowledge to take you to them so that you may begin mining these precious gems. Sell them, make your houses rich and do with them what you will. I only ask that you do so slowly. Ramp up your meat and fur productions as a mask."

"I-I Thank you, young Stark. I will heed your caution." The Greatjon rambled in his giant of a voice. The Lord of the Dreadfort gave a measuring and calculating gaze of Hadrian, who took this as a chance to mind-read him a little bit. Inside the mind, he found that he wasn't surprised that the Bolton Lord still practiced flaying but only on wildlings in secret.

While normally, Hadrian would have been disturbed by such a sight, he didn't think anything of it.

Hadrian, honestly, didn't care how they treated their prisoners so long as they wasn't someone of importance. The war of his past life taught him the importance of the act of garnering of information and he had to agree, albeit begrudgingly, that in these medieval times it was rather effective.

Not near as effective as Harry's performance of legilimency but effective nonetheless. The young Stark would keep a further eye on the Boltons and so long as they continued being on the edge of loyalty and not outright conspiring, he would keep the level-headed lord and his house alive.

The two men stepped away and with bated breath seeing what else the young lord would reward them with. "Lord Manderly and Lord Karstark step forward." The two lords did so, almost bolting to stand before the young lord. "Both of you have something in common. The plague of sea scum, the wildlings for the Karstarks and the Sistermen for the Manderlys. For the Manderlys I grant you leave to build the newly commission Shivering Fleet of the North. It is about time the North is granted dominion over the sea again and expand our trade routes to beyond the shores of Westeros."

To anyone else, that might've been a slight to their house for having to spend their own money to build a fleet of warships and trading vessels but all of the North knew of the Manderly's love of the sea considering that their own sigil was a merman. To them, when Brandon the Burner had forbidden the rebuilding the Northern fleet or any significant naval presence was seen as a massive blow to them. Before, the Manderly's had trade routes throughout all the known world and were one of the richest houses in Westeros and due to Sistermen scum that constantly raided what merchant or trade ships, they were really adept at waging war in the sea.

For the Manderlys, to be given leave to build a new fleet was like being handed the Iron Throne. They yearned for the sea but could never fully take to it and now they were able to dive straight in like the Mermen they were.

Every lord present laughed loudly as Lord Wyman's eyes became as wide as saucers. Even the stoic Lord Bolton and regent Ned Stark cracked smiles at the trembling posture of excitement that emanated from Wyman who almost fell at the clap on the back of Rickard Karstark.

"Lord Karstark, I believe it is time to bring the scum that are the Skagosi that have plagued your lands and shores for centuries if not millennia to heel. Maybe some Northern might from the best the North has to offer would show those of Skagos the err of their ways. Perhaps if they do not learn," Hadrian began with a knowing look in his eye. "Skagos and Skane will be in need of new houses and I can think of none better than your blood to begin their own houses on those lands. See my uncle Regent Ned and he will gather a thousand of Starks finest and aid you in battle for those lands."

Rickard Karstark was openly gaping at reward he was given. It was better that no one would actually miss the Skagosi people (even the honorable Ned Stark had agreed that the wildlings beyond the wall were more civilized) and they weren't as numerous as many were lead to believe, especially after their trash of a rebellion during the First Blackfyre Rebellion and even without Stark help, the Karstarks would be able to take the large island with relative ease and double their own holdings.

They both gave their thanks and while Rickard was able to make it to his seat just fine, Wyman had to be guided to an open spot since he was still sort of in a daze.

"Lords Glover and Mormont." He announced and the two immediately stepped forward. The young lord, that was Jorah and the elder Lord that was Galbert both stood proudly, if a little obtusely.

"Your houses have done House Stark a great service and it is my honor to allow Sea Dragon Point to become a new seat of nobility known as House Glovemont to specialize in the procurement of fish and the defense against both Ironborn and wildling threats. I would like to believe that Lord Manderly would love to assist in building a decently sized fleet." There was a round of laughter at that but otherwise Hadrian continued whilst smiling. "That is not all. Fish is abundant all around the Point and winters are harsh doubly so for House Mormont, the Point will become for the North on the west what White Harbor is on east. I hope not to make a habit of meddling in the affairs of my lords but I suggest a marriage to begin the House of Glovemont."

They both nodded and while Jorah was more expressive of his excitement, Galbert was the opposite and quickly thanked the young lord but the glint of gratefulness shone in his posture as he straightened out. Sea Dragon Point was always a contested region for both noble houses and while Glover outnumbered the poor house, the Mormonts were rather… violent in combat. Hadrian would have to see to it that Jorah didn't get any ideas about the Point either as already he looked eager to impress others with his newfound wealth. Galbert looked to be an easy choice as a steward of the Point seeing as how it would be good for his brother to take over the lordship of House Glover and he would be able to help those who would claim the Point as their seat.

"Lords Tallhart, Ryswell and Dustin please come forward." The trio did so. The boisterous Lord Dustin almost strutting while Ryswell, being seated near the door had to rush forward as did Lord Tallhart.

Hadrian began his tone carrying across the hall easily. "Lord Ryswell, its come to my attention from your good son that you breed the finest steeds above the Neck as a hobby."

At the confirming nod, Harry continued. "I would like to make you Master of Horses of the North. Now I know the North cares not for titles but I am willing to put forth a hundred thousand gold dragons into funding your house to become the main horse breeders in the North and eventually Westeros."

"T-Thank you my lord!" The thin man that was Rodrik Ryswell stuttered out.

"As for Lord Dustin. I see that you have had a taste of the world of alcohol." That was putting it lightly and the laughs that echoed in the room only added to the fact. While not a glutton at all, everyone knew that Lord Dustin had a thing for the inebriating beverage. "I am allowing leave for you to make several breweries and the funds to build them. I have a feeling you can become a fine brewer yourself."

"Aha! I knew I liked you Lord Stark. The Dustins will be known throughout the world for their strong drink!" He barked out a boisterous laugh as well.

"And last but not in the least bit important than others, Lord Tallhart, I hear you employ the finest smiths the North has at their command. That is why I am granting several mining locations of both charcoal and iron in the Barrowlands. Make the best steel Westeros will see in millennia." Hadrian commanded. The Tallhart Lord nodded and looked incredibly pleased with the outcome.

He was always having to import iron due to not being able to mine enough and considering that many did not like deforestation the mines of charcoal would be better used as well as them being able to burn without the ash which would typically lower the quality of the steel.

The trio of lords went back to their seats in the great hall. As Harry once again stood upon the dais to gain a little bit more height. The young Stark Lord took a sip of water before continuing.

"There is one more thing, my lords." Hadrian began garnering all their attention once again. "I propose to that we make a standing army." Before the lords of the North could input anything the young Stark quickly continued. "I won't lie. The rebellion cost the North and we paid in blood. The idea is that the North would be able to respond to any threat at any time while we continue to muster supporting forces. Ten thousand men-at-arms with a thousand cavalry to be ready at all times dedicating to protecting Northern interests. We will not instantly implement this, however, as we neither the time nor resources to do so but I would wager by five years we would be able to this."

Hadrian let the lords stew on this while his thoughts wandered to when he first brought this up to Ned, Benjen and Maester Luwin.

This particular topic was highly contested by his uncle and the maester. If not for his uncle Benjen and the fact that Harry had made some rather exceptional points then he wouldn't have relented.

The controversial subject in question was the militarization of the North.

Ned and Maester Luwin had argued that with the new regime there was no need to be skeptical of a war to brew. Luwin, wasn't necessarily against it as he was more against the fact that it would cause great strife with the other noble houses of Westeros and that the realm didn't need to be embroiled in petty conflict.

Benjen had argued against Ned that throughout the entire Targaryen regime there was rebellions as soon as they lost their dragons as that was just about the only reason that they first came into power and conquered the whole of Westeros.

Hadrian then tagged off of him and played off of his uncle's dislike, or rather, hate of the Lannisters. Seeing as how Robert was set to marry Cersei Lannister, the blondes of Casterly Rock were attempting to control the Iron Throne as Tywin wasn't known to just idle about. He also said that should Robert need the North, to only be able to muster twenty thousand at a moment's notice wouldn't be sufficient to combat the Westerlands or the Reach who could easily muster a hundred thousand.

Benjen then moved in with another argument that almost had Ned looking incredibly sorrowful. Had the North been more powerful, then Rhaegar may not have abducted Lyanna. Apparently, the younger of two brothers had thought about this as well as the newly minted Goldstark thought that the Targaryen prince probably viewed the North as savages and poor and could easily wave off whatever slight they took offense to.

Hadrian, on a roll, continued saying that the Ironborn were always known to take advantage of any instability of the mainland and could prove to be immensely troublesome if they start raiding the North. The young Stark further supported this by saying that there may be a time where the wildlings beyond the Wall may unite and they would be the first to feel those effects and would need to rapidly mobilize, fight and get back to living and not have to draw out a war should it break out.

Hadrian, Benjen and eventually Luwin supported the idea of beginning to get the North up to speed with the rest of Westeros and to do that they could not be weak whilst doing so.

His thoughts were broken when Lord Bolton spoke up, well more like quietly said while everyone strained to hear. However, Hadrian heard just fine. "What about the harvest? These men would be needed to bring it in. You cannot feed an army without the food."

The young Stark nodded. "The standing army would be on a rotational basis around the harvest. Five thousand would be the standing army for six months before the harvest. Afterwards, the next five thousand men would start their rotation till the next harvest and so on and so forth. This way, not only will he have a quick reaction force, so to speak, but an experienced military that could be brought to bear at anytime."

A few murmurs of agreement were heard and eventually everyone also voiced their agreement though Roose only nodded, his thoughts thinking how he could use this.

Hadrian would definitely have to keep an eye on the Northern schemer.

* * *

It wasn't until the late evening when the Lords of the North ended their meeting as they began to iron out the details of both the standing military and consolidated their holdings. The following year would be a busy one indeed.

They had a hearty supper and quickly mobbed the poor maester of Winterfell to send ravens left, right and center with various orders. The Karstark lord waved off the offer of support from Hadrian who was rather bummed out that he wouldn't be able to fight.

It was a rather lame attempt to shed some blood.

Hadrian, contrary to what the other lords had done, had taken to wandering the crypts of Winterfell.

With one gloved hand carrying a torch the young Stark Lord, wandered aimlessly throughout the expansive underground area of Winterfell and read names off plaques of the former Lords of Winterfell and Kings of Winter.

Harry waved his hand for what felt like the hundredth time to remove a pile of rubble that blocked an entrance into a deeper part of the crypts. Immediately, he noticed something different.

This wasn't like the normal rooms of the crypts where usually two neat rows of silent stone men flanked both sides of the room.

It was different in that it was circular and dome-like. A circle of stone direwolves outlined the dome like vigilant guardians. In the center of the room atop a pedestal was what caught his attention, however.

Atop the rather simple pedestal was a open circlet of hammered bronze incised with runes he did not recognize and surmounted by nine black iron spikes in the shape of longswords. He caught his breath in reverent awe at the sight and dared not touch it.

His focus was what was directly across the opening of the entrance. A large throne with runes inscribed at the base and with obsidian direwolves chiseled into the pommels of the arm rests. The large seat was inlaid with a grey darkened metal that looked eerily similar to Valyrian steel but missing the trademark smoky and rippling marks. The top of the back rest was what caught his attention, however, two obsidian greatswords flanking the head of a stone carved Direwolf.

Something clicked in Hadrian Stark's mind at that moment. His catalyst that is connected to the land as much as its people.

The Throne of the Kings of Winter.

 _ **Until Next Time!**_


	5. V - The Howl of The Wolf

_**Thank you for all the reviews and suggestions!**_

 _ **In response to a few questions, here is the age of Hadrian as of this chapter relative of a few of the other characters that have already appeared again as of this chapter.**_

 _ **Hadrian Stark – 10**_

 _ **Alys Karstark – 9**_

 _ **Smalljon Umber – 9**_

 _ **Devon (Man-at-Arms) – 21**_

 _ **Jon Snow – 4**_

 _ **Robb Stark – 4**_

 _ **Ned Stark – 22**_

 _ **Catelyn Stark – 21**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

4 Years Later…

* * *

Tywin Lannister was an unhappy man. Scratch that, he was always unhappy. His days of joyful expressions died the day his wife, Joanna, had. It only seemed that today his mood was soured moreso than usual.

He had received word that the Regent Ned Stark had rejected a meeting to discuss a betrothal for the young Lord Stark. The Quiet Wolf determined that his nephew would most likely take a wife from and of the North unless it benefited them greatly.

Tywin figured that it was because the majority of the prior generation of Starks had or were supposed to be married to southern ladies or lord. To do so again would be akin to political suicide with your own vassals.

But that didn't mean that Tywin had to like it at all.

The Old Lion had poured himself a rather healthy amount of wine before his thoughts turned into more reminders of where he went wrong in making an enemy of the North.

At first nothing changed. The North being stagnant has always been nothing of note and, until Robert's Rebellion as many had taken to calling it, the North had always been the reclusive child of the Seven Kingdoms.

Then it all changed, beginning with the changing of the Northern climate.

What used to be covered in summer snows and sleet, year in and year out, was now a miles upon miles of fertile land and forests that have been untouched for millennia. It didn't take long for the Starks and just about everyone else north of the Neck to turn the fertile soil into farmland that had already churned out eight harvests from the land, where the Reach could only turn out half that.

Maesters claimed this as a sign of a incredibly long and hot summer.

The more devout and ignorant septons had claimed this as the work of the Seven as a blessing for their sacrifice in ridding Westeros of House Targaryen. It escaped their notice that hardly, if any, of the North practiced their religion.

The North took this as a sign from the Old Gods that they were pleased with Hadrian Stark and the Stark family as a whole.

In Tywin's opinion, he could give two shits if this was the work of the gods regardless of which pantheon. What he did care about though was that this abundance of food was costing the Westerlands who had grown complacent on their earnings from selling their extra crop to desperate Northmen.

The Northmen who struggled to turn out most harvests had all but stopped purchasing food from elsewhere but the Riverlands and even then it was in minimum quantities to sate the temper of the arrogant Hoster Tully.

Then the rumor that over a dozen untapped gold mines were being brought to bear by the newly made House Goldstark. Tywin had personally ordered several spies to see if they were true and if they were to see how far they went.

Needless to say Tywin had ordered those same spies to death when they returned with news that the mines ran very deep and producing vast sums of the precious metal.

He had then sent saboteurs to disable the mines but to only find out, from the single survivor of the raid that is, that the Goldstarks were guarding those mines quite heavily and regular but random patrols were carried out. The Goldstark guards, whose sigil was a gold Direwolf on a grey field, had caught them before they could enact any significant damage.

Not only that, however, but the Starks had created a standing army under the pretext to combat any significant wildling threats but Tywin wasn't known as the most feared and cunning man in Westeros for no reason.

The Warden of the West saw it for what it was. A show of might to deter the other kingdoms from making too much of a fuss that the North was finally prospering and given that Moat Cailin and its twenty towers were rebuilt with the hardened battle commander that was Ned Stark controlling it, any land invasion would take significant losses or may be outright repelled before it could even cross into the previous wasteland.

That is to say if King Robert even allowed such an invasion to take place.

Then began the massive undertaking of building a port city on the west coast. Not only was Sea Dragon Point in a strategically viable position but it effectively closed off the North from any invasion by sea. Not to say that one wouldn't be successful matter as it was a relatively small fleet of fifty galleys built there to deter Ironborn, but it would delay the invading forces long enough for the North to respond.

The new city of Northpoint was already garnering an astounding amount of citizens that came from below the neck in search of work as had many farming settlements dotting the land and Winter Town becoming a major hub of trade activity.

Tywin suppressed a grimace at the thought of actually being challenged in might but it was coming to that.

The elder man had the misfortune of being the Lannister Lord to receive the news that Casterly Rock was being mined dry and in a few short years they would be.

But in order to keep the status of being the most powerful house in Westeros, the Warden of the South had to buy the fine steel weapons the North was producing, they had to buy the finest steeds of Westeros the North was breeding, they had to buy that strong whiskey the North was making, they had to buy the strong ironwood timber the North was selling.

If Tywin didn't know better, he would've assumed that the young Stark Lord that was Hadrian, knew that the rivers of flowing gold beneath Casterly Rock were about to be bled dry and was attempting to milk them for all they were worth.

But Tywin, of course, knew better. He was safe in that regard as he had the letter that told him the information burned.

He would've executed the head miner but he was smart enough not to come himself. _'Good, allow him to live a little longer and so long as his mouth doesn't open, he will live until after they have gone dry.'_

He sipped a little more on his wine as he thought further on what to do about the growing North. Perhaps he could, arrange a marriage with one of the future lords of the North? Maybe begin paying pirate kings to raid White Harbor? He had maester Theomore already in Winterfell, though he wasn't giving any meaningful information other than that the fact that the throne of the past Winter Kings had been found before he had arrived and that wasn't anything of note.

Both had their drawbacks though that seemed to outweigh the possible benefits that would come from such arrangements and while one would be seen for what it was and not at all discrete, the other was a lot less reliable and would have to come from the pocket from the house that shat gold but would need laxatives to keep doing so.

He sighed in complete dismay though it did not show across his features. He set the cup of wine down and crossed his fingers underneath his chin. He pushed the thoughts of undermining the North for another time. Right now, he needed to travel to a particular nuisance of a minor house and remind them the history behind the song that made him a legend.

* * *

Hadrian Stark dove forwards underneath the slash of a spear, while twisting his body so that he missed the thrust of a sword just barely. The buckler in his arm turned into an impromptu spring as he launched himself from the ground while simultaneously grabbing the longsword that had been dislodged from his grip moments prior.

With his knees bent and the round shield facing his two opponents with his longsword at the ready, Harry circled the two opponents as they stood defiantly and readying themselves. The man with the spear lunged forward while the other stood back waiting for an opening.

Harry responded with a lunge of his own. The longsword's blunted edge snapping the wood of the spear with a strong strike while Hadrian, using his own momentum to bash the unsuspecting swordsman with his shield causing the man to fall to the ground while the confused spearman found the longsword at his neck.

"Well done, my lord!" Rodrick Cassel proclaimed from where he was standing beside four men that that were in various states of injury. Harry had gone against six at once this time and from the constant training and sparring he had been able to come out on top for the first time.

Harry allowed a small smile on his features as that had been the first win when going against six simultaneous opponents. He had made it a point to gradually go against as many as he could and until he could consistently win against a set he wouldn't add another.

He went to go get cleaned up and found the First Keep empty save for the Throne of Winter that currently sat unoccupied, most of Winterfell castle as well when his uncle took his retinue to Cailin. Ned quickly made the seat of Cailstarks, with the sigil being a red Direwolf on a white field.

Harry had to quickly fill the household with people. He sent a raven to the Citadel for a maester since, even though he very much rather not have a maester at all, he needed the medical expertise for others and the need for someone to man the ravens until he could figure out how to magically enhance birds.

It pissed him off to no end that they sent the bootlicker and obvious spy that was Theomore who, in Harry's personal opinion was about as useful as a horse with no legs. Hadrian had excluded him from important matters regarding the North but wouldn't hold him back from attending court and 'advising' the young Stark Lord.

There were several times when the maester had refused to teach to the young Jon Snow and had invited himself to private meetings between Hadrian and other Northern lords. Harry was quick to force compliance with the blonde haired man for the former while he couldn't prevent the latter without completely overriding his mentality.

The last of which meetings was when Lord Karstark and Lord Manderly were at Winterfell and discussing the rebuilding of Skagos, now called Winter Isle, and planning a small naval fleet of ten galleons, a mainline warship of thirty oars and two masts that Hadrian designed, with the help of Lord Manderly and Maester Luwin, to fortify the strait between the mainland and Winter Isle.

Theomore had intruded the private meeting by attempting to advise them not to build any more ships as that would anger many lords south of the Neck and then had the gall to attempt to take over the rebuilding efforts.

Needless to say Hadrian was none to happy about that and all but expelled the maester from Winterfell at that and only the repercussions of doing so had stayed the order from being carried out. Theomore, from then on, had been subdued and had taken to only speaking when being spoken too. That didn't stop him from trying to get his hands on the collection of Stark journals and Harry had been forced to post a guard at the solar on a twenty four hour basis to deter that notion.

That still didn't stop Hadrian from adding security wards to the painting that stood vigil over the precious information.

Hadrian sighed as he finished getting on cleaner clothes and went towards the great hall for supper with Tobho Mott, who had moved to Winterfell when word had spread to King's Landing that the North was building a standing army, Rodrick Cassel and several of the household guard.

Hadrian's thoughts drifted towards the runic array that turned the North into the lush and actual decent climate that had rid the North of most summer snows. Each one was similar to the other with many other different touches. For example, the Bolton array was the one that was the one that was responsible for all the extremely fertile ground.

The irony felt good in Harry's mind.

He had used the volcanic nutrients that the Dreadfort stood upon and with a rather complex runic scheme had dispersed the nutrients throughout the land to make some incredible farming land.

All arrays connected to the Throne of the Winter Kings, and was keyed to the Stark blood and intent based wards. Should anyone other than a Stark sit upon the throne the arrays would go dormant and the land would decay and revert back to what it once was.

Should any with ill-intent towards the people and the Starks, the throne would actually kill the one sitting upon it overtime. Hadrian estimated a week for the effect to take place directly after they sat upon the sacred seat. He would only activate this if he ever needed too. It wouldn't do for someone to sit upon such as a steward.

Should any Stark be unworthy to be Lord of Winterfell, the throne would reject them and the land would decay.

It was one of Harry's more ingenious schemes. One which he was rather proud of, more than the array he had created actually and had applauded himself and clapped himself on the back on more than one occasion.

"My lord!" Theomore rounded the corner his chain of various metals clinking annoyingly as he waved a small parchment that usually came by way of raven. Hadrian internally grimaced as he sat down in the lord's seat atop the dais. At that many of those that typically joined him for supper did and the evening's meal was served, this time a thick stew of pheasant meat and potatoes with a loaf of bread and ale to was it down. Harry had taken to only drinking water and only drank the alcohol on occasion.

Harry had grown used to the unimaginative foods of the North.

"My lord." Theomore all but begged.

"Tell me Maester," Harry sighed. He was beginning to regret not bribing Maester Luwin to stay. He could've cast a heavy compulsion on him and just mind-raped him of everything he knew but in the grand scheme of things Theomore was a pawn and a nobody. Granted a rather annoying pawn but one nonetheless. Harry's ultimate goal of getting rid the world of these false gods didn't require the death of Theomore as much as he wanted to strangle the blonde man, but the second Theomore gave Harry that excuse, the young Stark would not bat an eye if push came to shove. "what could possibly need my attention that I am disturbed at supper of all places?"

"The Greyjoy's my lord." Stuttered the blonde man. "They declared rebellion against the Throne and Balon Greyjoy has declared himself King of Iron Islands."

Hadrian knit his eyebrows together but was not surprised at all. He was waiting for history to repeat. The young warden would've spoken but Theomore looked like he had more to say as he slipped out several more parchments from his robes.

"My lord, news from several villages along the shore have been raided but the majority have been repelled with minimal casualties as they weren't ready for the patrol parties you have sent. Moat Cailin has also repelled an assault from Maron Greyjoy." Theomore continued. Hadrian nodded but Theomore continued to look apprehensive about something.

"Out with it Maester." Hadrian already barked. The young Stark may have been ten name days old but he had the stature of one who had reached five and ten name days and carried himself like a confident and fully adult lord.

He would not waste time when pressing matters needed to be carried out.

"During one of Maron Greyjoy's raids on the surrounding lands of Moat Cailin, it is widely believed your mother Ashara Dayne was taken hostage so the North and Dorne stay their hands." He quickly said and added. "Right now she is missing however."

One could hear a pin drop in the great hall and there was a slight visible trembling in the blonde haired grey rat.

Hadrian who had his tankard of ale in one hand looked absolutely at peace as he blankly stared at Maester Theomore. A second later the simple wooden tankard was splintered and crushed in his hand, instantly causing his hand to get several deep cuts with splinters whilst dripping blood.

Several guards moved to get up and help their lord but he held his uninjured hand up, staying their bodies.

In an deathly calm voice, and with Hadrian's foreboding and commanding aura at full, the Stark of Winterfell spoke up. "Maester Theomore, call the banners and tell them to each assemble two thousand men and march to Moat Cailin. Have Northpoint send what ships they have available to the Moat as well. Rodrik assemble what men we have now and a general order to have another thousand ready by week's end. We march to the Moat at first light and while Rodrick remains as my castellan. Jon will be the Stark of Winterfell in my absence. Inform Lord Commander Devon to continue patrolling the west coast."

Theomore sputtered. "Surely, you can't wait till morning, my lord!"

"Maester Theomore." Hadrian's multicolored irises glared a hole into him. "You will send those ravens tonight and you will continue to teach Jon Snow whilst I am away or you will find yourself traveling back to the Citadel and never finding yourself welcomed above the Neck again."

There was several moments of silence and no one moved a muscle. "Go!" Hadrian barked and the young Stark had seen no people move as fast as everyone in the great hall. Tobho quickly nodded to Hadrian and bowed slightly. "I will have the boiled leather armor you requested ready at once." To which Hadrian nodded silently before heading towards the Theomore quarter's to get his hand stitched up. His armor was nothing special only that the shoulder pauldrons were slightly more ornate than normal. He would get steel plate when he was older.

He could've used magic to heal himself but since a ton of servants and guards having seen his bloodied hand, it wouldn't do to have a hand that was devoid of injury.

* * *

It was a week and a half later when Hadrian received word that King Robert had called the banners to war against the Iron Islands.

The North had already assembled the ten thousand men-at-arms that were awaiting their rotation and the various other lords having joined Hadrian's own march towards Moat Cailin. Already, given the improvement of paved roads, the Boltons, Umbers and Manderlys had joined him with the Karstarks and Goldstarks playing catch-up not too far behind.

The Mormonts, Glovers and Glovemonts, whose seat was still being manned by Galbert Glover as castellan until the newly birthed Lyanna Mormont and Deric Glover came of age to take over, were being kept as defensive forces as well as House Ryswell, who with their expert cavalrymen could respond to threats in a timely manner.

With the ten thousand combined with the three powerful houses they had an estimated force of twenty thousand as well as many minor houses joining in and combined with the two others and Moat Cailin's own troops they would have another five thousand at least.

The Manderly fleet of a hundred war galleys was already rendezvousing with the Royal Fleet at Dragonstone before Hadrian had gotten the raven to call the banners. The young Stark estimated that they would at least be halfway there if not more, given Hadrian's personal runic schemes to allow the galleys to move faster in water and if they had good wind it would be even faster.

It was miracle that he had thought of an area of effect ward, the idea behind it that only the flagship would need to be around for the ships to be faster. The wharfmen would only need to carve certain runes into the hull of the galley and the runic array he created within the flagships would then activate those carved runes once they got within a certain distance so long as the object in question was in direct contact with water.

So long as the wharfmen built the ships to the specifications, all northern ships near one of the three flagships would be faster and a hell of a lot more durable than their Westerosi and Essosi counterparts.

Hadrian was interrupted from staring at the battle map that had formed before him when Lord Karstark and his uncle Benjen Goldstark stepped into the command tent that was erected a few dozen minutes prior. With a bellowing laugh, Karstark greeted Harry and shook hands with him while Benjen was a little more subdued in his greeting, offering only a slight smile and bow.

Lords Roose Bolton, Greatjon Umber and Wyman Manderly were quick to also enter the command tent as well making it a bit crowded as it was small already.

"My lords." Hadrian stated while nodding to each of them as a gesture of respect. He looked down and placed the four more Direwolf figurines on the outskirts of Moat Cailin. His uncle Ned was going to meet them there momentarily.

They were all gathered around the table when Ned came in. "My lord." Hadrian nodded to him as well. As much as the young Stark wanted to not stand on formality only when in the security of privacy would they do so. To show that type of favoritism wouldn't buy him any points with the other Northern lords despite the familial relations.

"King Robert has barely called the banners the day's past and yet we have assembled a mighty host already with no target. Lannisport is in ruins and Redwyne fleet has been caught off guard along with the Royal fleet." Hadrian began. "Currently we are the only force capable of retaliation at the moment and Balon Greyjoy may believe that we will all regroup at the Golden Tooth to launch an offensive, where he can disrupt supply lines with inland raids and further delay any response from the Royal fleet." And with a predatory gleam in his eye, Hadrian stated. "I intend to take advantage of his pride and ignorance."

They all murmured their agreement while Ned and Roose Bolton looked skeptical. To them, only overwhelming force and superior numbers won the day with strategy to further guarantee a victory.

Hadrian continued. "Balon may currently rule the seas and raid at will and will not expect an attack for sometime so here is what I have in mind." He said as he moved over the battle map. "The Manderlys, Boltons and Karstark men with the ships of Glovemont will come with me to attack Blacktyde, Orkmont and Harlaw. The rest of the Northern army will go on towards the Golden Tooth with Lord Cailstark as commander. The plan is to relieve pressure off of the Royal Fleet and the west coast long enough for the rest of Westeros to rally and attack Pyke. The distracted forces returning to the Iron Islands to repel us will be caught in the ass when half of Westeros is knocking on their door." He said while moving the figurines across the map to display the movements of troops.

"Daring but highly risky, a single mistake and your entire force will be destroyed." Ned stated with a hand naturally resting on the pommel of Ice. Hadrian had gifted it to him and his house when Euron Greyjoy was disarmed whilst raiding the beginning stages of Northpoint, he had escaped though. The Ironborn man had been wielding a Valyrian steel longsword. Galbert, in a move to keep the peace between the two feuding Northern houses presented the sword as a gift to Hadrian.

Harry had to hand it to Galbert, who while not an expert fighter was a mediator through and through. According the former Glover lord, he didn't want young Lyanna to be pressured into giving the sword up to her uncle and the same with Deric. Given that the Glovers had already their own Valyrian sword, Galbert felt right gifting it to the young Stark who finally solved the dispute over Sea Dragon Point.

"I am confident it will work." Hadrian stated with finality but the other Northern lords could see the two feuding wolves both attempting to get the other to back down with, in Eddard's case a stormy grey stare while the other multicolored stare bore a hole into the Regent of the North's eyes as well.

The other lords silently determined that Hadrian's stare, even though cold and aloof, was a lot more uncomfortable and held more authority than that of Ned's. Hadrian spoke but his hard glare at his uncle told all that he would not be swayed from this plan. "I will be carrying this out, this is the only way for this squabble to be taken care of in a timely manner so we can all return to our lives. The sooner the King takes Pyke, the sooner Balon is dealt with."

Ned stare did not relent.

Hadrian met his stare on his established high ground as he spoke to the other lords. "Lord Bolton, Lord Karstark and Lord Manderly, have your men ready to move to the mouth of the fever by first light. The rest of you will be placed under," He put a little emphasis on his uncle's name. "Lord Cailstark's command."

The Northern Lords did not need to be told twice about obeying the young man's word but Roose Bolton did linger a little longer than necessary before he too stepped out of the command tent.

And in a few moments the two were alone.

"I do not like this." Ned stated. "And I did not want a raven to be the bearer of bad news."

Hadrian had a dreadful feeling welling up in him as his uncle spoke those words.

"Harry." Ned spoke, his tone grim and sorrowful. "Your mother is dead. Her body was found washed up on the shores of the Fever river. The Silent Sisters are transporting it here as we speak."

There was nothing but truth as Harry read his uncle's surface thoughts.

It was several long moments before the words his uncle said registered with the reborn wizard. "Leave me." Hadrian said.

"Harry-"

"I said leave me!" He barked as he felt tears well up in his eyes and the instinctive nature to draw upon his magical abilities were suppressed.

It was a long minute as Ned stared with absolute self-loathing and sadness in the elder Stark's eyes as his nephew stared at him with tears slowly streaming down his cheeks. Ned nodded solemnly and made to head out, but stopped and gave Hadrian a parting thought. "Know that others have felt the same as you do ."

And with that the elder Stark left.

Hadrian let the tears fall freely for the first time in his life in Westeros.

But the young Stark determined one thing whilst he cried himself to sleep that night.

The Drowned God would be the first of the pretenders to be thrust back into the void.

* * *

Maesters, devout Septons, nobility and smallfolk alike, later claimed that the Seven were displeased with the Greyjoy's Rebellion and that it was the Smith, himself, whilst hammering the swords that would put an end to the conflict was what had caused the earth to quake and tremble below them and what caused the Neck to split open causing Blazewater Bay and The Bite to connect through the Fever, a league North of Moat Cailin.

However many of those North of the Neck, specifically those within the army camp of the twenty-five thousand that were in Moat Cailin at the time, came to call the night as the Howl of the Wolf, which would later be recounted as a gloomy song.

In response to the heartbreak that overtook the young wolf, the Old Gods had felt the anguish that tore at the Stark's heart and wept with him and in their mutual sorrowful embrace caused the heaven's to fall with hailing rain and the earth to tremble with a powerful force.

Knowing the Northern cause was now a matter of vengeance for their loyal subject, not a single Northmen was killed that night during the tremors and floods that broke the Fever and their supplies and equipment remained undamaged by the rains that poured on them.

When the young Stark emerged from his dry and unharmed tent, he did not look surprised at the muddy ground nor the newly made canal that appeared during the night.

He did not shed anymore tears at when his mother was laid to rest within the crypts of the Moat.

He did not heed his uncle's pleas for him to remain in the North to properly grieve.

Hadrian Stark had only a single thing in mind as he boarded the flagship, _The Wolf's Call,_ and stood at the prow like a conquering warlord as his wolf pelt cloak billowed in the rushing sea salt wind, his Valyrian steel longsword, _Winter_ sheathed and belted at his hip.

Revenge.

And Hadrian would not be kept from it.

 _ **Until Next Time!**_


	6. VI - War is About Survival

_**Before this chapter gets underway,**_

 _ **I would like to say that I made the mistake in not adding AU (because I figured in any crossover the AU is implied) to the summary which has now been added.**_

 _ **I would also like to say thanks to the reviewer who mentioned Vlad the Impaler. The concept plays a heavy role here. So Kudos to that particular reviewer.**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

The small pebbles crushed beneath Hadrian's boot as he stepped onto dry land the first time in a month. His target, the subjugation of House Blacktyde and the beginning of revenge for Hadrian's mother, Ashara Dayne.

He had allowed the first waves of ravens to leave Blacktyde Castle and then ordered the complete surrounding of the small island castle by the many ships they had. While the vast majority of them were cogs and barges, the fifty Northern dromonds of war were scattered to be able to counteract any form of attack.

The young Stark Lord soon found himself in a war council aboard the flagship of the Northern fleet with the three other lords that accompanied him. "Lord Bolton, how go the men? And speak plainly." Hadrian questioned starting off the meeting.

The soft but harsh spoken man responded after a moment in a quiet voice. "They wonder why we here when we should be with the King. They do not think we are equipped for a siege and they are right. The siege weapons onboard the ships can reach the outer walls quite easily but he have not enough of them to do any significant damage before they are reinforced and by then we will be low on supplies."

Hadrian nodded and turned to Rickard Karstark who was, while being discrete about it, was glaring at the Bolton lord. "Lord Karstark, and yours?"

"My men are eager for a fight. They are ready to spill blood in your name." Karstark said proudly whilst standing to his full height and Hadrian nodded but cared not whose name they spilled blood in. The less of his men that died taking this castle the better.

"Lord Manderly, how many prisoners claimed they are of House Blacktyde?" Hadrian questioned while staring at the small castle walls.

"30, my lord." Lord Wyman responded after scrunching his thoughts of confusion.

After a moment's thought as Harry continued to stare at the Blacktyde Castle, he spoke in a confident voice. "Then by month's end the castle will be ours. Come ashore with the prisoners." Harry stated as he walked away leaving confused lords in his wake.

* * *

King Robert Baratheon shook his head in dismay as he listened to the groveling lord that was Mace Tyrell continue to speak.

How he managed to continue to emphasize in new ways that his daughter, merely five name days old, was a beauty with no equal and how under his orders the Redwyne Fleet managed to rally at the same time was beyond him.

And it appeared the other lords were getting sick of it as well, if going by the expressions of his brother in everything but blood, Ned Cailstark and even the oaf's own bannerman Randyll Tarly was sitting there, a man known for his stoic nature, openly glaring at his own liege lord. Even Oberyn Martell was there but the cold mask and frosty attitude toward everyone was steep contrast to the climate that was of Dorne.

The Dornish man and the Dornish men were there for vengeance against Ashara Dayne's murder, Robert sincerely doubted that if Ashara hadn't been killed there would've have been any Dornish support at all.

A maester quickly entered the command tent that was on the shores of Pyke and garnered the King's attention and saving them all from the brown nosing of Mace Tyrell.

Never in his entire life had Robert been so glad to see one of those sniveling old men.

"Your grace." The man in grey robes stated as he handed his King the rolled parchment and spoke up. "A raven from Lord Bolton has arrived."

"Hadrian Stark has captured Harlaw, Orkmont and Blacktyde." Robert announced in his booming voice. "He reports three and ten Blacktyde men killed with no losses on his side when the castle surrendered its lord. House Orkwood was put to the sword and was destroyed to the last man. House Tawney, after losing forty Tawney men surrendered their lord and castle, and House Harlaw dipped their banners to Hadrian Stark when he arrived on their shores. Your nephew reports no more than a hundred Northmen were killed in the fighting. He is on his way here."

That surprised everyone in the command tent.

When Ned had told Robert what his nephew's plan was, Robert was expecting severe casualties on the North's part and not the complete surrender of three islands and their houses. "Of course the man is exaggerating!" Mace proclaimed. "I should go myself to see to it that those houses are completely subdued."

After weeks of being in close proximity with the pompous man and Ned knew his nephew to sometimes omit details, never lied to him. The hardened Northman rounded on the Warden of the South. "My nephew is no liar and Lord Bolton is not a man known to tell tall tales. If he says my nephew has captured the three islands than he has."

Robert picked off his friend and barked at the Reach lord. "Besides, you fat oaf! We have been receiving ravens from just about the entirety of the Iron Islands that they are surrendering when our forces land! There must be something that the young Stark is doing right that is making our jobs a hell of a lot more easier! If not for him, then the Redwyne Fleet would be nothing but shambles and Ironborn raiders still frolicking along the coast!"

The Oaf of Highgarden didn't have anything to say as he sputtered. Robert shook his head and waved him off. The man would only dig a deeper hole for himself.

The Jon Arryn spoke up. "To allow the young Stark Lord to wipe a House from existence though? Surely that can't be allowed."

Thoughts drifted over to the infamous Tywin Lannister and the Reins of Castamere. No one said anything about it but Robert knew that Hadrian had garnered some respect from the Old Lion if only if it was a little.

Ned spoke up in defense of his nephew, however. "His mother was a hostage and if any one of your own mothers were murdered as well than you may do the same yourselves. There is one thing for sure that the outcome of this war will be. Maron Greyjoy will not live, no matter the cost." Ned said with finality, garnering many voices of agreements.

"This is war, Ned." Jon disagreed with a shake of his head. "Things happen. To execute Maron Greyjoy we may have to wipe House Greyjoy off the map as well. The decimation of a Great House, even if it is of the Iron Islands, so close to after the rebellion would not look to well. It would be better to bring them in the King's Peace rather than ridding another House root and stem."

"Aye, this is war." Ned agreed. "And things happen, but I do not think keeping my nephew from his target will earn us any favors. The only thing on his mind when he left the Moat was the blood and death of Maron Greyjoy."

"Enough." Robert barked. "We will discuss this more when your nephew arrives, Ned. There is not much good in deciding the fate of the Greyjoys while they still sit in their castle."

There was a moment of silence as Ned and Jon stared at each other in a battle of wills.

"Leave us." Robert commanded and the lords up and left. The Hand of the King not moving at all. "Jon, you too. Ned, stay." The grim man did as he was told but by the tent flap as Jon Arryn, not breaking eye contact with the elder man, brushed by him. It was several moments before Robert spoke.

"It feels good to be back on the battlefield. Gets my blood going you know?" Robert said in a strong tone but it turned downtrodden as Ned just continued to stare at him. The sighed at his attempt to lighten the mood. "Jon is right. I can't just allow the whole of the Greyjoy's to death. Maron included. To do so would be seen by many lords that they won't be safe and even I know that the last thing anyone wanted was this war. We will see to it that they are bashed in good that if they do not change their ways they will be destroyed, there is no escaping that."

"Hadrian will not be happy." Ned simply stated.

"Your nephew is just a boy, Ned." Robert said. "Just let him blood a few more of these squids and he'll feel satisfied."

The Regent of the North shook his head at that. "He is just as wild as Brandon was and as vicious as my father. I tried to curb his more ambitious plans but its all for naught as he just finds some way to make sense. If he sets his mind to it, he will not be kept from it."

"Seems the young pup is the alpha of your pack now!" Robert bellowed a loud laugh. Ned mentally commented that Robert had no idea how right he was.

* * *

Hadrian disembarked the small long ship onto the island of Pyke. With him as hostage was Lords Blacktyde and Tawney as Lord Orkmont had been executed when he attempted to surrender after his walls were breached and Lord Harlaw was still back in his castle as he had surrendered as soon as Hadrian stepped onshore near his castle.

While Harlaw had surrendered that didn't mean that his treasury wasn't confiscated. Seeing as Harlaw had the largest treasury, it was to be a gift to King Robert while the four Northern lords split House Tawney's and House Orkmont's loot.

Hadrian led the small entourage through the massive encampment on the shores of Pyke. Stormmen, Westermen, Reachmen, Dornish men and Northmen all cheered for Hadrian and through scraps of food and pebbles at the two shamed lords.

Through it all Hadrian kept a stoic façade. He had no reason to be happy. The only joy he found in that moment was that he was that the man that caused him grief

Maron Greyjoy was going to die and not even the King would stop him.

Hadrian had felt no satisfaction in killing Voldemort as he was only a year old when his parents, Lily and James, were killed and could hardly remember them.

Hadrian would feel the greatest amount of triumph in killing Maron Greyjoy. Hadrian lost Ashara and now Balon will lose Maron.

He was greeted by the Kingslayer better known as Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard. His pure white armor making him stand out like a sore thumb among the dark reds of Lannister and browns and greys of Stark.

"Ah so the Wolf decides he is ready to grace us with his presence!" The blonde haired man said aloud.

"And the Lion decides he needs to grace us with his." Hadrian blandly retorted his face showing no emotion and Jaime sarcastically and overtly bowed whilst sweeping his arm in a grand gesture. The last time the young Stark had seen the man was at the closing feast quite a few years back at his last day in King's Landing.

Back then, Harry could remember seeing the Lannister Kingsguard with bags under his eyes and constantly looking over his shoulder at the shadows as if they were hiding Targaryen loyalists out for revenge for their Mad King.

Hadrian honestly thought that Jaime had the same if not more assassination attempts than Robert himself for the role he played in the Rebellion in that he was not only a Kingsguard that literally went against his vows but also the first born son of Tywin Lannister and a prime target for redemption for Elia and her children.

His death could easily be played off as an attempt on the King and no one would be the wiser and unless Tywin had any leads on the perpetrator, they would get off scot-free.

His ever present smirk, had faltered only slightly as the Hadrian did not appear amused in the slightest. "I am to escort you to King Robert, who has called a full war council now that you are here. My father's men will take charge of the prisoners." He waved forward the small grouping of Lannister soldiers.

Hadrian immediately stopped them with an icy-glare as his hand, that his been clasped with the other at his back landed on the pommel of _Winter._ "The prisoners will remain under my care, if you want any hope of ending this war by night's end."

"My father wants them as hostages." Jaime retorted.

"Then the Old Lion will come get them himself." If Jaime looked closely, sparks of power could be seen in the eyes of Hadrian. "To me, they lost their chances at becoming hostages the moment they decided not to surrender in the time alloted." The two prisoner lords suddenly gained a fearful look.

There was a silent standoff and the Northmen accompanying the young Lord looked uneasy except for Karstark and Manderly. They had garnered respect for their future liege lord who showed mercy to those that deserved it and death to those who denied it.

Jaime's eyes narrowed ever so slightly and the edge of the Kingsguard brow twitched as he was rebuffed. Hadrian spoke again. This time Hadrian let his foreboding, uncomfortable and authoritative aura spike and held it there cowing the less brave of the men around them, "Take me to the King. The prisoners will come as well and we will see what he decides then."

The standoff continued as many men looked at each other nervously, all dangerously close to drawing their weapons and all ready to start another civil war on the shores of Pyke.

After another moment, Jaime nodded and gestured for them to follow him. Hadrian followed without hesitation and quickly entered the King's command tent. Ser Barristan the Bold and Ser Aerys Oakheart flanking the Demon of the Trident with the other Wardens of Westeros surrounding the table.

Ned stood off to the side outside the tent and was calmly tending to _Ice._ Harry had seen his uncle do this many times when he had a lot on his mind and needed time to think. The only greeting shared between the two was the nod before the grim man stood and followed the Northern entourage into the presence of the King of Westeros.

Hadrian and all the other lords of the North dropped to one knee and after being told to rise, stood proudly. Except for Lord Bolton, the Leech Lord had a slight hunch in his posture and never broke it to anyone.

"Little Hadrian Stark!" The boisterous King boomed and laughed loudly as he drank from a cup of wine. "My you have grown! You look like a boy five and ten when its only been four years!"

Harry had his magic to thank for that. His growth would be accelerated until he reached eight and ten years of age and then it would stagnate to a fourth of the rate. In his previous life, he didn't notice it as much as his growth was stunted by the abuse he endured at the hands of the Dursleys and when at Hogwarts he didn't take much note of it because when everyone had accelerated growth due to their magic, nothing looked out of the ordinary.

Here though Harry would probably be taller than Robert was in his prime but not the monstrous height of Ser Gregor Clegane or Greatjon Umber.

"You have done the Crown a great service." Robert proclaimed. "The rebellion is being put down quite quickly."

"I believe having the entirety of Westeros bearing down on a single house can have the type of effect." Hadrian carefully said to which Robert quickly barked a laugh.

"Boy, the Ironborn were surrendering as soon as we showed up." Robert said honestly much to the chagrin to Tywin Lannister and Mace Tyrell. "And they had us on our back foot until Stannis beat the Iron Fleet at Fair Isle and you were here long before that."

"The Ironborn are seafarers, I won't insult them in not saying that their strength at sea is where their power lies." The young Stark responded earnestly but then looked away slightly. "But I won't deny that the efforts of my lords, my men and I, have had a significant impact on their morale."

There was a pause in conversation as Jon Arryn whispered something in the King's ear to which he nodded. "For your efforts, I am prepared to grant you a boon. Anything that is within my power to grant it will be yours."

Hadrian thought for a split-second. "I request vengeance for my mother. The only payment will be the head of Maron Greyjoy."

One could hear a pin drop in the silence that engulfed the tent at that.

Jon Arryn spoke for the King. "Regrettably, that is something we cannot grant. We have determined that the House Greyjoy will continue to rule the Iron Islands and thus will not tolerate their deaths. Do not worry they will pay with their gold and oaths."

"Oaths mean nothing to the Ironborn." Hadrian spat out. "They will promise to one King and when he passes they will rebel again. They will never cease their raiding and pillaging unless destroyed."

"That does not excuse the extinction of a Great House." Jon Arryn retorted. Hadrian internally scoffed at the hypocrisy of the man. The Lord of the Vale fractured Westeros to rid it of House Targaryen when they burned men alive. Why raise the entirety of Westeros to allow a House whose entire religion and culture revolved around raping and raiding?

The young Stark Lord highly doubted that the goodness of his heart was the sole reason for allowing the reavers to live. The young Stark shook his head when an idea occurred to him. "How long has the siege been going on?"

"About a month." Stannis dourly responded. "They won't surrender even when all their support is gone. Maybe another few months before we starve them out."

Hadrian turned to the King and suggested. "Give me a week. If they do not surrender by then than wait the month and take it by force."

Robert looked thoughtful when Mace Tyrell spoke up. "A green boy! You believe you can cow the Ironborn into submission! Ha! The Tyrell men have been at for a month! If we cannot do it then surely you cannot."

Stannis openly glared at the oaf as did many of the other lords. "Tourneys and feasting surely is intimidating." Hadrian dryly mocked. "Give me a week and whatever prisoners you have and the castle will be yours."

King Robert barked a laugh and nodded. "You have command of the siege until I deem otherwise. This is the King's command." Hadrian nodded, bowed and stepped out. The other Northern lords following him.

It was time to end this war.

* * *

Ned Stark was sick to his stomach after listening to Rodrick Karstark tell him how his nephew produced the outcome of three islands

Impaling hadn't been done in centuries. Sure, the spiking of heads was done but the person was already dead.

Hadrian Stark, his own nephew, executed thirteen Blacktyde prisoners in full view of the inhabitants of the castle. Thirteen men bled to death atop steel pikes. Forty Orkwood prisoners executed in the same fashion and when the castle didn't surrender, the entire castle was put to the sword.

The ruthless Stark Lord left Castle Orkwood adorned with their defenders impaled atop the castle walls. Their bodies drained of blood as they were displayed for all to see. A complete mocking of the Ironborn ways.

While burial in the ground was more of a slap in the face to the Ironborn, the air was about as far as one could get from the sea.

The message clear to all. Surrender or face gruesome death. A Tawney scout had seen the results and had reported them to their Lord before ravens were sent every which way of the outcome. After the defeat at Fair Isle and the gruesome manner in which House Orkwood had been dealt with, it was either face surrender with their lives or meet the Stranger earlier than intended.

Ned approached his nephew and stood at his side as the strode to the edge of the range of the castle archers. "Hadrian."

"Uncle." The young man's voice was distant, almost serene in his calming tone. His stature and stride confident in its task. _Winter_ swaying slightly at his hip and the black and grey wolf pelt cloak billowing slightly in the wind. His battle companions staying slightly behind with Lord Orkwood being dragged along while Lords Bolton Karstark and Manderly had recognized the need for privacy and walked further back. Benjen had been sent to deal with any more threats at Old Wyke and to control the peace until Pyke surrendered.

"Lord Karstark told me of your exploits at Orkwood and their fate."

"Then you know that what I am about to do." Hadrian surmised.

Ned could only nod but the disappointed look never left his eyes.

"Uncle, I am not here for glory nor honor." Hadrian began as they continued to walk towards the edge. "I am not here to be merciful nor am I here to be the bringer of death to all. I am here to end the war not prolong it needlessly. I did not feel satisfaction in killing those men and will only feel it when Maron is dead."

"He also told me that you were executing Drowned priests." Ned commented.

Hadrian nodded sharply. "They are a part of the root that must be cut. They encourage raiding and raping and paying their so called 'Iron Price'. I say let them pay it. Pay it with the judgement of steel and destruction."

They arrived at the edge. "They will either surrender or suffer the same fate as Orkwood." The young Stark declared. "As I said, I will do what it take to protect my people and ensure the Greyjoys know that Winter has come for them and that the blizzards will not stop until it has claimed what they have bought."

The Stark entourage garnered quite the crowd as they stepped to the no man's land between the siege line and the castle walls. "Maron Greyjoy!" Hadrian called out, his voice amplified with magic. The sense of foreboding and dominance gradually increasing for the defenders of Pyke.

It was several moments before Lord Balon Greyjoy and his son Maron stood atop the battlements. "The young pup thinks he can cow us!" Maron shouted garnering many laughs from the defenders though many of them were unsettled. Rumors had reached them of what had befallen House Orkwood at the hands of Hadrian Stark.

"I speak to not only the defenders of these walls but the Pretender as well." Hadrian ominously said. Everyone assumed he was speaking of Balon and his rebellious claim of King of the Iron Islands. Only Hadrian knew that the Drowned God himself was addressed and if the storm rolling in was any indication, he was listening and not at all happy. "Know that what I do, is an affront to your Iron Price and customs. Know that should your lord not surrender this castle, the fate of every man that calls themselves 'Ironborn' will suffer the death of rebels and will be treated as such. Know that no one will be safe, not even your King, when the walls of Pyke crumble." Hadrian gestured with his bandaged hand and two men-at-arms roughly shoved the former Lord Blacktyde forward and another handed the Stark Lord a pike.

"Lord Victarion Blacktyde. I charge you with high treason of which you have been found guilty of." Hadrian announced. "In the name of King Robert of House Baratheon, the first of his name, King of the Andals, the First Men, and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I, Hadrian of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North sentence you to death."

The former lord had an incredibly fearful look in his eyes and he attempted to run but two Stark men held him in place. With a single, powerful thrust, Hadrian pierced the back of the lord and forced the body into the air, with magically reinforced strength the Stark Lord executed the final move to the dance he had perfected in the previous months.

The young Wolf displayed the impaled body of Victarion Blacktyde for all to see. A lord of the Iron Isles executed like a common thief.

It was silent as the grave and only the puking of dozens of Tyrell men and the strangled and sputtering screams of Victarion Greyjoy sang through the air.

Hadrian stepped forward into range of the castle defenders before sharply pointing to the impaled man. "That is the fate of every man here if you don't surrender! We have six other lords of the Iron Islands, that means you have six days to surrender before this castle falls." He shouted and turned his back. The entire encampment silent as they watched the Stark Lord deliver the ultimatum and walk away with a predatory grace.

The sputtering of Victarion Blacktyde ceased and the rumors of the surrendering of the Iron Isles proven true.

* * *

Hadrian soon found himself having to deal with an errant Jorah Mormont. "Tell me again why you disobeyed my orders, Lord Mormont." Hadrian spoke. The elder man while not openly glaring at his future liege lord did not respond.

"Exactly." Hadrian nearly snapped. The weight of the past months almost crashing down upon him. "There is no meaningful excuse for you not to be back at Bear Island or Northpoint and defending the shores from any raiders."

"You can not expect me to simply stay back when there is honor and glory to be had!" Jorah snapped back. The other Northern lords were here witnessing this exchange. While Hadrian, and the other Northern lords, could and would forgive his uncle's open argument with Hadrian back at the Moat as he had been worried for him, he could not forgive a blatant disregard for command to do so would jeopardize his position. Jorah was also the youngest of the lords just after Hadrian himself so his ignorant attitude was something that was simply foolish.

"This is war, Lord Mormont." Hadrian did not raise his voice but the coldness that gripped his tone sent chills down the spines of those present. "It isn't about doing what is right or wrong nor achieving glory or honor. It is about survival. You seem to forget the very subject the North is known for teaching, your own home doubly so."

"You seem to not care that you yourself are glorifying your actions." Jorah stated and at that point Hadrian had half a mind to behead the man. He wouldn't do so though but Jorah would be feeling the effects of the alpha aura that was currently gripping his heart causing him to slightly tremble in fear.

"I have no need nor want to justify my actions to you. What others view them as is none of my concern." Hadrian sharply rebuked. "Jorah Mormont as of now I am determining whether or not that House Mormont is in need of a regency until a male of your sister's line comes of age.

Your blatant disregard for my own commands and the disregard you have for leading your own people and defending them in a time of war is grounds for execution or the Wall. Should the walls of Pyke be breached, you will be in the rear guard. What trust I have for you is minimal but it is enough to allow you to go unguarded. If any should find you in the vanguard, you will go back to the North a disgraced man and sent to the Wall." Hadrian declared. "I have half a mind to execute you right now, you are in luck that the King is here and to present a fracture in the North will not bode well for us."

There was silence at that. Hadrian was getting sick of it. "When we return, I will personally see to it that the regency is placed in the capable hands of your sister. Should you prove yourself capable you will have it back but until then you are no longer the Lord of House Mormont." All the other lords nodded subtly at that, approving of the decision.

The taking away of his lordship was a good thing it would rid him of the power to further damage the reputation of his house and if he messed up he wouldn't drag his house down further. The lingering threat of the Wall or death hung in the air as Hadrian left for supper with the King and his uncle.

It earned him more respect in the eyes of the North, except Bolton who would've executed the man right then and there for defying him.

It was early in the morning the day after Victorian Blacktyde was executed when Hadrian Stark had taken over the siege of Pyke. He had doubled the efforts of the siege engines and increased shows of might with marches. The Reach had been forced to stop the tourneys and feasting in plain sight and the Westerman and Northmen showing the precision of the few siege engines and the few war dromonds that could get close enough to shore and that were done with a few false attacks at all times during both the day and night.

The Ironborn would not get any rest and with the numbers that Westeros had brought to bear they could cycle through quite easily. Now that the siege was being taken seriously rather than being at the command of Mace Tyrell, the Ironborn were fearing the worst.

It was easy for all to see and none plainer to Tywin Lannister that Winter was coming for House Greyjoy.

He arranged for a meeting with Hadrian Stark today in hopes of gaining a possible tie to the rapidly influential and prospering North, gaining the alliance or rather control of the North.

* * *

It was on the second to last day of Hadrian Stark's tenure as commander of the Pyke siege when Tywin and his son Jaime found themselves watching off from the side as Hadrian Stark executed Lord Tawney with impalement and the Old Lion mentally added respect to the young Stark's growing reputation. The young Warden offered them a way out, a sense of mercy, something Tywin couldn't add to his due to his advancing age and having already established himself as a ruthless and merciless individual.

The Old Lion and the Kingsguard moved towards the young Northern lord that was gracefully, if a little deadly, walk towards his command tent as if nothing happened. The thirty Stark men-at-arms that accompanied him, a staple sight wherever the young lord went, always vigilant in the protection of their ward.

While Mace Tyrell had made some fuss over the young lord being able to create such a guard, Robert had put a quick stop to it, the young Stark even going so far as stating that they were more battle companions rather than guards and would return to their regular duties once back at Winterfell.

After all, having something akin to the Kingsguard was treason and wouldn't go over well with many lords at the obvious show of favoritism. That still didn't stop a few of the men from the Reach from calling it the Wolfsguard, however.

Tywin followed them towards his tent where the young Lord's messenger had told him to meet him at. The guards just waved him in and the two Lannister men that accompanied him stood beside the Northern men.

Tywin, while appalled at having to take orders from the boy, took a seat when he was gestured to do so. The young Wolf was standing over the battle map and was simple fiddling with a quill. Hadrian sat down as well. "Lord Tywin, Jaime Lannister." The young Stark greeted neutrally. "Might I offer you some water? I am afraid to say that right now I am unable to procure wine."

"Lord Hadrian. I thank you for your offer." Responded the Old Lion in kind and nodded slightly but internally a foreboding and grim feeling took feeling in him as Tywin looked into the eyes of the younger boy. The Lion of Casterly Rock felt as though the multicolored gaze was piercing his very soul and mind.

Internally, the Lion shook himself of the feeling before getting on with the meeting. He knew Northerners not to beat around the bush and Tywin was never good at flowering words, scheming and cunningness was where his prowess lied. "I am here to discuss an alliance between both of our houses."

Hadrian nodded as though the young Wolf knew what he was here for but there was a slight narrowing of the Stark's eyes before leaving so quickly Tywin thought he imagined the contortion of muscle. Hadrian spoke up. "And what do you have in mind?" The young lord knew that right now Jaime was insignificant and wouldn't speak until the official discussion had taken place.

Tywin respect went up a few notches for the young Wolf. Just about any other lord would not get into specifics with House Lannister as due to how powerful they were the minor lords would bend over backwards to simply be on his good side. He also didn't outright refuse him as his regent had and had the decency to hear him out.

Now Tywin didn't typically respect people and as a matter of fact the only two people he had respect for were his brother Kevan and sister Genna and would go to the ends of the Planetos to see to it that they were well cared for. He still hated his father for marrying Genna to the Frey's of all houses. Hadrian, however, was a refreshing difference than all the bumbling fools he normally had to deal with.

To find that in a ten year old, even though he looked five and ten, only meant great things.

That is to say, Tywin showed it. He would not ruin a potentially powerful ally with an overblown ego.

"A marriage alliance." The Lord of Casterly Rock said simply. "Between one of my nieces. Increased trade and a way to mend ties between Westeros."

Tywin had wanted to offer Myrcella's hand, since he wouldn't have been able to deny, but the eldest child of the Royal Family was firmly sheltered by her banshee of a mother even though Cersei displayed blatant favoritism to _'her precious lion'_ that was the sadistic Joffrey. Tywin did not want to know how that madness took hold of his grandson. He would've beat that out of Joffrey the moment he showed signs but it seemed his mother was cultivating a second Aerys.

He did not in one chance think the wise boy of the North would ever agree to a betrothal with an off-shoot branch of Lannisters. Hadrian Stark was after all, Lord of Winterfell and Warden to the rapidly strengthening North. To marry someone of that stature would be an insult to his own lords, unless the offer was tying the North to the throne, the young Lord would be obligated to marry of the North.

Perhaps he could plant thoughts of marriage in Robert's ear. He needed the North to be controllable and with Hadrian showing a ruthless and cunning side that hadn't been seen since Cregan Stark and the Dance of Dragons, it was becoming all the more imperative to secure the North as an ally.

And if history was to repeat itself in that regard, it wouldn't do for the Lannisters to have an enemy in the North.

The young Stark lord spoke after a moment with an aloof tone but the ever-present and underlying aura of authority and uncomfortableness was still felt by the Old Lion. "I cannot give you any promises other than it will be taken under consideration. You know the position I find myself in."

Tywin nodded but his mind instantly turned to a scheme. When Pyke fell, if the detrimental loss of morale of the Ironborn was any indication it would be any day now that the castle surrender making the young Wolf good on his promise, he could host a tourney in Lannisport where Cerrana could perhaps seduce the young lord. It was a stretch but it may work.

A calm but tight smile formed on the Old Lion's lips as his thoughts turned to the several large gold mines controlled by the Stark's themselves. Yes, it could work.

It never occurred to the Lion of Casterly Rock that the Wolf of Winterfell's own calm but deadly smile indicated the he knew exactly what the elder man was thinking.

And was going to rather put a huge wrench in his plans. After all, no one could force him to go, other than the King and even that was iffy. The only ones he thought could get him to go to Lannisport were one of his cousins and one of them was in Winterfell and the others in Moat Cailin hundreds of leagues away.

Hadrian was exhausted but as he prepared himself for rest, a single thought pervaded his thoughts.

 _Tomorrow would either spell death or life for the Greyjoy family._

 _ **Until Next Time!**_


	7. VII - Fall of the Drowned God

_**Hello! I know that I have been including ANs in all chapters even though I said I wouldn't but I ensure that this will be last one for while. One of the only reasons for including this was honestly I must've wrote this chapter about a dozen times till I was satisfied.**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

* * *

Hadrian Stark stood before the walls of Pyke with a taut façade adorned upon his face. It was night and an immense and fierce storm was attacking the siege and castle forcing everyone even the guards on duty into the shelter of the captured houses of Lordsport and forcing those within the castle indoors.

It did not bother Hadrian, however. A couple water-proof and warming charms later and Harry would be dry as the sands of Dorne.

His grim aura though spiking as a being materialized beside him. Harry did not move to acknowledge the being. He knew from the cold mist sweeping the rocky shores of the Iron Island that Death had come for a visit.

" _You have weakened the Pretender's following considerably. It is time to rid this world of a fake god."_

Hadrian nodded. Death brought his scythe to bear and slammed it into the ground and Harry drew _Winter_. In a moment, the rains coalesced into a form in front of them. The storm increased tenfold and lightning strikes began hitting around them.

At first, the Stark Lord didn't know what to describe the being as but as it did so, he likened the being to a squid man. Tentacles covering where it would've had a mouth and an emerald encrusted crown atop its scaled-armored body.

Hadrian had to contain his laughter at the absurdity of it all.

Hadrian heard it speak but he didn't understand as the two beings spoke to each other. Death nodded and moved far to quickly for Hadrian's mind to comprehend. What he did comprehend though was the distinct sound of a blade piercing flesh and exiting it.

In a moment, the head of the squid fell off and the ghoul avatar of Death raised his hand and a greenish hue began to exit from the fallen form of the squid god.

Hadrian looked a little perplexed at the simplicity of it all.

" _A zealous follower may attempt to bring back the worship of it and it may gain traction but these people will not be as attuned with the sea as they had been before."_ Hadrian knit his eyebrows in confusion. _"The Drowned God will not return. It's essence dispersed amongst the void once again."_

"That's it?"Hadrian questioned. "What did you guys even talk about and what even was that language?"

" _Some things, young Hadrian, are not meant to be known."_ Death spoke its rattling tone. _"Do not trouble yourself with such things. It does not concern this world nor you."_

Hadrian did not respond to that as he figured it was no use so he moved onto the next. "You did not come here just to tell me that did you? I could, after all sense a distinct lack of magical aura now."

There was an imperceptible nod from the being that Hadrian barely caught. The very slight inclining of the hood enough to give credence to the answer of the question.

" _We have eliminated the first of the Pretenders that exist, arguably the weakest of this world. The others will not rest anymore and will attempt to subvert us in any manner possible."_ Death stated in its rasping voice. The cold mist sweeping the rock causing ice to form in their immediate area. Hadrian, though, noted that Death said we even though the being did the heavy lifting.

Harry, after all, didn't favor his chances in regards to a god even if it was fake.

"I have a question regarding the dragons of this world." Hadrian suddenly stated.

The being didn't outwardly respond for a moment before it began speaking. _"I must say that we are lucky the beasts of Valyria have all died out. The grand majority of them birthed from a particularly vile ritual of blood magic, a particular sort of human sacrifice in that they become the avatars of one of the Pretenders. The souls that partake cannot be redeemed."_ The being stated. _"The dragons themselves being creatures of fire, feed the Pretender's life force but while there may be no more. The Pretender's agents make use of human sacrifice to please their god. Humans, dragons… this Pretender does not care only if it is fed."_

That disturbed Harry greatly, he may be powerful but maybe a magical creature of that magnitude was a bit beyond him. Luckily if he could gather a few eggs he could hatch them correctly. The words of Death clicked something then. The Doom of Valyria made a hell of a lot more sense now.

After all, an angry fire demon that was yearning for a purpose had to do something in order to get this powerful.

Hadrian nodded to the being. "Thank you."

" _I am Death. The balancing force of the universe. The Pretenders may be moving against you but they do so with caution. They realize they are not as invincible as they seem to portray themselves as."_ And with that the cold and foreboding mist that set in, immediately vanished as Death also did.

Hadrian's attention turned towards the walls of Pyke, they had refused to surrender and Harry had to make good on his promise.

Harry crouched low and palmed the wet earth in his gloved hand. His multicolored eyes spilling with the eldritch energies he held within him and pulsating with green lightning dancing about like a storm of the curse that should have preemptively ended his life on two occasions.

Blue and white streaks of lightning danced in the sky, torrents of rain poured and gusts of wind picked up their invisible races.

As the hidden young wizard slowly stood with he faces of his hands facing towards the dirt of Pyke. In equal speed he raised one of the palms of his hands to the sky. Suddenly, a flash of lightning struck Hadrian's outstretched hand. His multicolored irises shining a bright and envious green with unbridled power.

The electric and destructive energy coalesced within his gloved palm. A pure bright orb within the darkness of the stormy and violent environment.

His eyes turned to Pyke and with a simple thrust outwards the white orb flew like an arrow. It impacted the closest wall with ease. Nothing happened and Hadrian calmly walked away. The strong walls of Pyke that could still siege weapons for weeks on end looked no different.

Tomorrow they would fall electrifying force.

* * *

The day after, Hadrian marveled at the storm caused by releasing the energies contained within the Drowned God. Hadrian had managed to shield the encampment and naval forces from the worst effects of the storm but the muddy ground and few frazzled tents and a single stone building being knocked down attested to the strength of the storm.

He still hadn't figured out how his accidental magical foray at Moat Cailin went the way it did. The fact that creating a canal from the annals of his grief and causing a Westeros-wide earthquake from said grief did nothing to alleviate his fears of what may happen if one of his cousins was killed.

That being said, he planned to do anything and everything to keep his family together.

Hadrian stood before the walls of Pyke slightly behind King Robert and his uncle Eddard, Jon Arryn was standing imperiously off to the side with a frown directed at the younger Stark. The army was ready to head into the breach with Robert and Ned leading the charge.

"Hadrian Stark!" Robert boisterously greeted, the man was in his steel plate armor and crowned stag tunic. The infamous antlered helm giving them a glimpse into what happened at the Trident. The man was wielding the massive warhammer with ease in one hand

"Your grace." Hadrian bowed slightly. "The trebuchets are in position."

"Good!" He shouted impatiently. "It is about time we show these squids what Baratheon steel tastes like!"

"Your grace. May I give a few words to the defenders of the walls?"

Robert gave a nod and lowered the visor to his helm. Hadrian opted for no helmet and instead his wild raven black hair was free but the slight wind blowing made some dirt get in it. He had shed his wolf pelt cloak for the coming fight and while the black boiled leather armor stood proud over the simple mail shirt he wore. _Winter_ was at his hip, waiting to be drawn while a steel buckler, one with the head Direwolf engraved into the face. In his hand was simple longbow and a quiver of arrows on his back.

While he was proficient in swordsmanship, archery was where he shined.

Approaching the awaiting defenders and within arrow range, Harry had handed his buckler to one of his battle companions who took it without question. He admired that in his household guard. They were loyal and never asked question. That didn't mean the bunch weren't a rowdy one when ale or any type of alcohol was involved however.

"Men of the Iron Isles!" His amplified voice carrying in the wind. "I ask only one thing of you. Was it worth it?" And with that the young Stark lord turned his back.

There was a shout and Harry felt his instincts taking over. He spun on his heel and caught the flying arrow, that would've pierced his back, in the hand, much to the gaping of astonishment of all those that saw the act.

Hadrian, during the sudden silence, quickly nocked the arrow and sent it flying back to battlements where it caught an unlucky Ironborn in their throat. The Stark Lord did not know if that man was the perpetrator, he did not care.

The men of House Greyjoy will soon realize this.

* * *

The battle was over before it even started. When King Robert gave the order to begin the attack the ten siege weapons and whatever war galleys close enough loosed their contents into the wall Hadrian had spelled the night prior under the cover of stormy darkness.

Upon impact, the walls fell with such explosive force that everything within twenty meters was vaporized in an instant.

Such was the nature of harnessing and binding such an erratic magic if even for a short amount of time.

Luckily for the vanguard, they were no where near that close. Unluckily for the defenders atop the walls, nothing was ready to respond to such a threat in time. The vanguard, not thinking anything of the explosive show, rushed forward at the opportunity. Green summer knights of the Reach among the majority of them. All eager at a chance to earn a name for themselves.

Hadrian's own battle companions did not move a muscle until their lord did. Only as the majority of the army began to push forward did Harry move forward in a confident and powerful stride. The thirty men surrounded their lord and behind them did the rest of the Stark men begin moving.

They had fought brutally at Orkwood in the vanguard, before that a lot of them having survived the battles of the rebellion and did not feel at all slighted at letting their younger, if a little naïve and stupid, comrades go into the fray before they did.

They moved slowly, methodically as they went through the breach in the walls. Hadrian picking off any straggling and resisting Ironborn with arrows, even if they were in the middle of fighting a summer knight of the Reach, or a soldier of the Stormlands, or even a red cloak of the Westerlands.

Hadrian wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

Harry quickly became a prime target as a group of roughly fifteen Ironborn appeared out a dark alleyway, brandishing axes and their oval-like shields.

They didn't survive long, Hadrian quickly plugged two arrows into a pair of vulnerable necks. The guard handled the rest with ease. Harry turned to one of his guard and ordered him to find the former Mormont Lord. It wasn't long till the man returned with a party of Reach soldiers in tow.

The Stark figured that Jorah would've been as close to the front of the rear guard as possible.

"Take what men you can gather and go door to door. Every Ironborn man is to have surrendered or killed by day's end. See to it that it is done." Hadrian's eyes narrowed at the look of displeasure and disdain directed at his liege lord but said nothing in response as he brandished the Valyrian steel sword _Longclaw_ and left.

It wasn't long before the whole of the castle was cleared out and every nook and cranny being inspected by the men for loot.

Hadrian turned his gaze toward the main keep of House Greyjoy and with a feeling of grim satisfaction, took the first steps to the end of his vengeance-filled campaign.

* * *

Jon Arryn, Hand of the King and Warden of the East looked on in disdain at the captured Greyjoy family. He was relieved that after the walls fell there was no real fighting to be done. Though that was to be expected. The walls falling to a single volley of siege weapons was unheard of and caught everyone by surprise.

The King, himself, was off doing gods knows what, probably fucking some Pyke whore or 'inspecting' the captured treasury.

His other foster son was probably executing some troublesome prisoners.

That left himself discussing things over with Tywin about a tourney he was going to hold in Lannisport in commemoration of the victory in front of the bound and gagged Balon and Maron Greyjoy. Apparently, House Harlaw was currently fostering both of Balon's youngest. Something that apparently escaped Hadrian Stark's notice.

He would have words with the young Stark regarding this.

Granted the surrendered House Harlaw probably hid them away as the Northmen ransacked the castle of it's treasury, and they probably were expecting the Iron family to be in Pyke.

The two's discussion, however, was abruptly interrupted when there was shouting and swords clashing right outside the main keep of Pyke. The two inside quickly brandished their weapons and the few men-at-arms within the keep drew readied their spears and swords.

Jon almost jumping in his armor when the large kraken carved polished wooden doors burst open, revealing a Hadrian Stark, whose armor was slightly caked in grime and dirt with blood spattered across his face and armor as well and four of his guardsmen following him. Jon noted that the young Stark's eye was bruised and closed, a slightly wide slash starting above its brow and ending just below his eye. "Your men did an excellent job clearing out the castle." He dryly stated as his guardsmen took posts at the entrance.

The Stark Lord moved towards them in a predatory gait. The tip of his Valyrian steel longsword, _Winter,_ slightly above the ground as it was dripping slightly in the blood of a now dead Ironborn.

The men relaxed but Jon Arryn had a foreboding and commanding feeling take hold of him. The Hand of the King could only watch as Hadrian strode past them, made eye contact with the fearful looking Maron Greyjoy and continue his gait.

A gripping terror took hold in all those that looked at the young Stark Lord, immobilizing their bodies.

The Wolf circled the bound, fearful and whimpering Squid.

Jon Arryn wanted and willed his body and mouth to move and protest the young lord as he raised the rippling sword of Old Valyria.

It didn't.

In one fluid, strong and forceful motion, the Stranger claimed another son of House Greyjoy.

The lopped off head of Maron fell to the ground with a terrified look in his eyes as the body of the rebel squid fell in a resounding thud. The Stark Lord looked downwards, before nodding to himself, satisfied in his lust for revenge before striding past a fear-stricken and immobile Hand of the King and Warden of the West.

Balon Greyjoy too shocked at the action only let out a strangled gasp from the dirty rag that was forced in his mouth.

The Greyjoy's Rebellion was over. The Winter's blizzards have claimed what the Ironborn have bought for their ignorance and negligence. The young Wolf sated in his palate of death.

The Stark guardsmen following their lord out as he left without any other word to those present.

It was at this moment that Jon Arryn of the Vale realized that he had lost control of the North and would need to take some steps further to ensure that the Vale was not caught in the eyesight of the Wolf of Winterfell.

* * *

Hadrian stepped aboard the _Winter's Call_ before it cast off for Harlaw. The Northmen not staying a moment longer than necessary. Ned, on orders from King Robert, was to go retrieve Theon Greyjoy and have him as a ward at the Moat.

A nicer way of saying hostage in Hadrian's rather cold opinion. If he had his way, the entirety of the Greyjoy family would've been killed. Alas, he was already pushing bounds with executing Maron the way he had and the war against the Drowned God was over.

In the grand scheme of things, the Greyjoys were nothing of note anymore, at least to him.

While the majority would be leaving for Moat Cailin and the new canal to get to White Harbor, a small portion, namely Lord Dustin, went to Lannisport to celebrate the victory and to make a personal purchase of more Arbor Gold as, in his words, a gift for Barbrey.

Hadrian let the small smile across his face contort into a wide one at that, though it kind of caused the bandage that wrapped over his cut face to itch. The Dustin Lord proclaiming and making it a tradition for whenever he or future lord Dustins returned from war to bring a dozen barrels of the expensive wine for their wife.

Hadrian was greeted in the captain's quarters by his uncle waiting for him inside.

"Hadrian." Ned stated. His ever-present grim and sullen expression faltering for a moment with the slight curling of his lips.

"Uncle." Hadrian's own widened smile never faltering.

"The Hand of the King has forbidden you from attending the tourney at Lannisport." Ned stated getting right to business. "He believes it just punishment for going against his orders."

Hadrian only nodded, this falling right into his plans. Now Tywin couldn't make such a huge fuss over a slight that wouldn't have happened regardless if he attended or not. Granted, he wouldn't have attended but it was nice to have an excuse other than not feeling like it.

"He pushed for me to take over the lordship of the North, saying you were not fit if you disregard commands."

Feeling a bit daring and figuring a way to clip away some more of his uncle's honorable defense of the man, Hadrian nonchalantly responded. "If you wish to do so, then do it. Frankly I stand on the basis, that the King never denied me his head. King Robert granted me a boon and Maron's life paid it in full. If the Warden of the East decided to stop me he would've not only slighted the North but also Dorne. Can't have that."

"It is a good thing I denied him then." Ned responded with a slight smile again and drunk a good portion of ale that was in the tankard nearby. "He proposed a marriage alliance with little Sansa and his heir presumptive Harold Hardying. I hope it is alright that I accepted."

Hadrian nodded. It was obvious what the man's play was which was sinking more of his Falcon's talons within the North.

Not that Harry minded. Quite the contrary in fact, as Sansa was being brainwashed by her uncompromising mother and, ironically, devil of a Septa and the Wolf of Winterfell knew this to be an amazing way to tie the Vale to the North while still appeasing Catelyn who would've made a rather messy fit if her little red pup had to marry a 'savage' of the North.

He would just have to make sure the Hand of the King didn't think to attempt to off Hadrian as that would rather damper Harry's mood in having to retaliate in kind.

He would need Robb and Arya at least to marry of the North. Bran would have to find a wife of the Riverlands as he was Hoster's heir to Riverrun.

As Hadrian's thoughts turned to more of the events regarding the south a thought occurred to him and he could feel the beginnings of a headache form at his head as he realized he did not even have a way to get sensitive but crucial information to him in a safe way.

He took a sip of water as his uncle left the cabin to get some supper. Another more uplifting thought occurred to him.

Maybe it was time to revive ol' Cregan Starks spy network? That would definitely be something for his journal, at least.

He opened said book in anticipation and slightly winced. He knew the coming years were going to be particularly busy for him, at the very least.

* * *

 _Damn him! Damn Jon Arryn of the fucking Vale!_ Tywin seethed inside his solar but it did not show on the proud lion even in private with his brother Kevan present.

Though to the brother of the Old Lion, it was readily apparent that the man was angry. Kevan left quickly after that.

The man had ruined his plans regarding the young Stark Lord and his spies had told him that the man had arranged a betrothal for his nephew and heir to Ned Stark's eldest daughter and given that Ned's youngest son would be in control of the Riverlands the North would be in a powerful position.

And if Oberyn Martell's rather vocal agreement of the young Wolf's execution of Maron Greyjoy was any indication on Dorne's thoughts then Hadrian Stark was the key to half the kingdoms of Westeros.

Tywin shuddered to think of the power the boy wielded at such a young age.

He knew his plan at Lannisport was a longshot and now that he thought about it, it was rather ill-planned. The young Wolf wouldn't have let himself be easily used.

The Lion needed to be cautious now but fast. Hadrian Stark proved himself a capable battle commander and a respectable lord at such a young age and many a lord would be trying to arrange a betrothal with the young man.

It was time to put pressure onto Robert and Cersei. The North needed to be in their control. It needed to be in _his_ control.

* * *

Olenna Tyrell, much like her Lion counterpart in the Westerlands, was internally seething.

Mace Tyrell, her oaf of a son, once more made the Tyrell's one of the laughing stocks of the more affluent nobility.

Making an insult of Hadrian Stark's tactical prowess, he not only made an enemy of the Wolf of Winterfell but the powerful North.

While many Northern lords could honestly not care for anything of the Reach anymore and what their liege lord's words were, the infamous Queen of Thornes knew that (even from hearsay and rumors) that the young Wolf could hold a grudge even in the face of the ruling powers of Westeros, saw his appetite for revenge sated and left with hardly a scratch.

Metaphorically speaking of course, the scar that one of her son's men-at-arms described an injury that almost cost the boy an eye.

Brandon Stark son definitely held the wildness that made him unpredictable and made use of the wit he inherited from his mother. The two creating a dangerous and powerful personality in the Game and one few, if any, could even hope to be naturals at.

She wasn't one for military matters, as she left that to the men and their sticks of metal, but even she knew that the gruesome, simplistic and effective methods drew a bone-chilling and primal fear within those that witnessed them.

Oddly perfect for the house whose words are _'Winter is Coming'_.

She needed to mend the ties with the North and fast. She could've and might've suggested a marriage between her granddaughter Margery and Hadrian but her idiotic son was dead-set on making her a queen.

The North was no longer the child to be pushed around by the other kingdoms, but now the elder son that has withstood thousands of years of abuse.

And Olenna feared the day that the blizzards of Winter remembered its errant siblings.

 _ **Until Next Time!**_


	8. VIII - Secrets

_**Enjoy!**_

Jon Snow did not envy being a highborn. At least not at this moment.

The nine name day old bastard of Ned Stark was watching on in relief as Robb got chewed out by his mother. The redhead that was Catelyn Cailstark was currently spitting fire with such vehemence that Jon could've sworn he saw smoke rising from her ears.

The reason being was his half-brother had encouraged Arya to prank Sansa once again. The dripping water from the eldest daughter's hair was testament to the lengths of which the spirited Arya was willing to go in order to have fun.

His internal chuckling was interrupted when Catelyn turned her attention towards him and the ten outriders sent to escort the Cailstark party here.

He did a poor job of hiding his amusement but to his credit the scene was rather funny. From Sansa's weeping to Robb's failing efforts to even appear properly scolded and Arya's laughing whilst peeking from behind his father's broad frame, with Theon looking on with a smug, up-turned façade and openly chuckling. Young Bran was looking rather bored sitting on the cart.

Jon knew he didn't imagine the way his father's lips cracked into a smile at the sight as well.

"And just what are you smiling at?" She snapped from her perch on the wooden cart they used to travel there. Granted that the escort had snuck up on them, Jon had to contain his laughter as the heads of the Cailstark family snapped to him. How only Lady Cailstark had transitioned her ire with such ease was beyond him.

"Lord Stark has sent me to escort you to Winterfell, if that is alright Lord Cailstark." He said respectfully before gesturing to the cavalry guard around him to take up positions around the party of Moat Cailin. Jon was drilled by his cousin to observe formalities at all times unless in private and given leave to do so. While still considered a bastard by many of those outside Winterfell, Jon was told, in private with his father in attendance as well, that he would be his cousin's heir until he had a child. It is an incredibly well-kept secret and would be until Hadrian could find a way to legitimize him to make it official.

Considering the amount of danger that seemed to surround his cousin Hadrian Stark, it was a perfectly sound idea and given that he had already gathered respect of those in Winterfell, it wasn't hard to fit into that role.

Catelyn sneered at Jon who paid it no mind. He flanked his father's left side while Robb quickly took the opportunity to escape the clutches of his mother, jumped back onto his horse, and rode up next right hand side of his father.

It was a silent ride to Winterfell, other than Arya and Sansa wanting to go through and see the sights that were in Wintertown and Jon had to admit it was quite the sight. Granted for as long as he could remember it was always like this but his cousin told him it was once a desolate town with only a third of the houses occupied and almost always covered in snow or frost.

Now it was a bustling hub of activity and trade with a lively shade of color. Jon had been with his Lord cousin when he was personally overseeing the planning and renovations of the town with the builders. It was divided in many quarters and districts. The main road that lead to Winterfell castle was crowded with people and stalls selling food, trinkets and many other things. The Winter Guard busy, a garrison of two thousand men with blue tunics and tight scaled mail armor armed with spears and shields, patrolling the streets to keep the peace.

"It doesn't stink." Ned stated looking nothing short of relieved.

Jon nodded but thought nothing of it other than slight confusion. One of the first things Hadrian had implemented were bath houses for everyone and a strict code of cleanliness. His cousin absolutely adamant that these things be done before anything else.

The bath houses getting their water supply from the hot springs below Winterfell and Hadrian had stated that he had plans in the works getting an aqueduct, as he had called it, running from the White Knife to Wintertown.

The entourage quickly made their way towards the main gates of Winterfell where they were waved in after seeing who it was. It was the harvest feast and Hadrian's nameday would be in a few months where he would be officially taking over the lordship of Winterfell and many nobles both in and around the North and the Neck were here to give oaths of fealty to the Wolf of Winterfell. It was determined that it would be easier to do so now when everyone was going to be here regardless rather than later.

Hadrian was there waiting for them. Beside him on his right was Rickard Karstark and on is left Greatjon Umber. He looked as he usually did, leather jerkin with dark colored breaches and around his shoulders a wolf pelt cloak and _Winter_ at his hip. His hand resting comfortably on the wolf head pommel. At only fifteen namedays old, he even stood taller than the Karstark lord and Lord Umber was only a neck and head taller than his cousin.

Jon attributed it to his uncle, Brandon and the Dayne family. His father had once told him that Brandon was unnaturally tall for someone of the Stark line and the Dayne's were always a tall people.

Hadrian's slight smile greeted the entourage. Catelyn almost scrambled off the wooden cart to pay her respects to the Lord of Winterfell and future, official, Warden of the North.

Jon stood off to the side of his father as he watched his half brothers and sisters line up in an orderly fashion from oldest to youngest. Sansa did her cute little curtsey and blushed at the inspection of Lord Stark, who merely looked her over once, offered her a compliment and moved to Arya who, smiled widely at her cousin. Her failed attempt at a curtsey was waved off as he hugged the youngest of the Stark family and promised her to give a her a few archery lessons.

Bran was looking in wonder at the castle. While Moat Cailin was incredibly bigger than Winterfell, Jon always felt that the ancient and weathered castle always had a slightly more warm ambience to it. Hadrian had offered to escort them all around Winterfell and Wintertown the day after the harvest feast.

It was at this time where maester Theomore came shambling out of the castle in a hurried pace where he whispered in the Stark Lord ear. The smiling and joyful expression adorning Hadrian immediately morphed into one of cold indifference and everyone could feel a foreboding and commanding aura suddenly permeate the yard around them.

Jon had only experience this one other time. Maester Theomore had neglected or rather avoided to educate him further in the duties of a lord and heir. The cold, calculating gaze that Hadrian had leveled on the former Lannister had caused Jon himself to take a step back in fear. He could only imagine the amount of fear he instilled in the sniveling man at the time.

Gone was the warm and jolly Harry Stark, a teenage boy whose presence was never unwelcomed, in place was the commanding Hadrian Stark, Lord of Winterfell, the cold and calculating Warden of the North and the sole reason the Iron Islands were hardly attacking Northern trading ships.

"Lord Cailstark and Lord Karstark may you meet me in my solar?" Hadrian questioned but he did not way for another answer as he took the two rather large letters from the maester. "Jon, could you see to it that the Cailstark family is given full accommodations within the castle?" Hadrian did not even need to look to Jon to see his acceptance.

Jon figured that when Hadrian was like this it was best to just agree with whatever it was that needed to be done.

The young Stark Lord quickly left afterwards with the Northern lords sharing a concerned look before following their liege lord into the castle, maester Theomore quick on their heels.

* * *

Hadrian growled aloud as he threw the two letters down onto his polished ironwood desk. The desk was rather simple but held a snarling Direwolf head carved into each corner. The two Northern lords and the maester helping themselves in.

It was apparent to the trio that the Wolf was furious.

It was after several moments when the maester spoke. "My lord, what is wrong."

Hadrian didn't look towards the grey rat that he kept around only for appearances sake. He finally found a way to enhance messenger birds. It was no mistake that owls, known as symbols of intellect and wisdom, were used as magically enhanced messenger birds.

"Maester Theomore, I had thought that I only asked for my uncle and Lord Karstark to join me." The frigid tone was not missed on the two Northmen.

The maester glanced annoyingly at the two lords before turning towards the lord he was supposed to be loyal to. "My lord, that is the seal of the King."

"I can see that Maester Theomore and if you do not leave now. I will make good on the threat I made years ago."

The two men had never seen a man of such advanced age move so fast.

Hadrian waited till he knew for sure the man was gone then he gestured to the letter. "The King, or rather the Hand, has requested me to go to King's Landing to discuss a betrothal between me and the Princess Myrcella."

One could hear a pin drop as Ned took the letter and read it over quickly.

 _By order of King Robert of House Baratheon, the First of His Name. King of the Andals, the First Men and the Rhoynar. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm._

 _I summon Hadrian of House Stark, Heir apparent of Winterfell and wardenship of the North, to King's Landing to arrange a betrothal between the Princess Myrcella of House Baratheon, my eldest child and daughter and Hadrian of House Stark, heir apparent to Winterfell and wardenship of the North. This is by order of the King._

 _Signed  
\- King Robert of House Baratheon, the First of His Name. King of the Andals, the First Men and the Rhoynar. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm_

"I would've expected Robert to want to betroth his daughter to Robb." Ned stated honestly. Many northern lords also expected it as well. "I can see Jon's hand in this, he wants to have a measure of control over Hadrian but I do not see an issue other than that."

Karstark grumbled as he pinched the bridge of his noise in annoyance. "Hadrian and I have been discussing a possible betrothal between him and Alys." Rickard sighed in defeat. "I understand that you have to accept and do not hold it against you. I will ensure that the other lords do the same."

"Thanks Rickard." Hadrian said earnestly. "I'll be sure to repay your troubles."

"There is no need." The older man waved the younger man off. "For all you have done for the North, you have already earned the North's respect. While marrying within it would've garnered it moreso, there is nothing you can do against the King's commands." Hadrian thanked him once again before his uncle spoke.

"What of the other letter?"

The daunting multicolored gaze of Hadrian Stark turned towards his uncle and picked up both letters, one in each hand. "While this one, is from Jon Arryn, Hand of the King to King Robert," He set the one with the Hand's seal onto the desk. "This one is from Jon Arryn, Lord Paramount of the Vale and Warden of the East." He began as he tossed it onto the desk in disgust. "It is regarding the Sistermen and their raids along White Harbor and on the merchant fleets from Essos."

At that they nodded and both took a grim façade. "Wyman was talking with me earlier today on whether we need to increase patrols along the shoreline."

"No need. Lord Arryn has thought that simply sending them a raven will stave them off. The Sister Isles are not as large nor as fortified as the Iron Islands. When I leave for King's Landing through White Harbor, the whole of the Northern Fleets will bear down upon them."

They both nodded. Hadrian subsided conventional declarations of war. Ned knew that his nephew preferred shock tactics over giving a potential enemy time to prepare.

The Greyjoy Rebellion was proof of that and soon the Sisters would be as well.

"On a lighter note," Hadrian stated. "I have been meaning to discuss plans to foster Arya here and perhaps Robb as well."

Ned nodded already liking the sound of that. "Arya is giving her mother grey hairs already. Perhaps you can mold her wolf-blood into something that won't be dangerous." His uncle laughed lightly. "Robb will stay at home though. He needs to learn the Moat and manage both White Town and Moaton." Ned turned towards Rickard. "Perhaps you will be open to a betrothal between Alys and Robb?"

Hadrian and Rickard both nodded at the same time. "Good," The Cailstark lord declared and with Hadrian's leave both the Northern lords left their liege lord.

Hadrian looked down at the many parchments strewn across the ironwood desk. Perhaps it was time to act more reforms on the Northern military.

And the Sistermen, and Jon Arryn's stupidity had given him the perfect excuse to do so.

The grinning Wolf of Winterfell, whose bannermen swore fealty to with no qualms (except on Lord Bolton's part however minor), went to bed that night with the assurance that the North would be even more powerful by the time he returned from King's Landing.

* * *

Hadrian absolutely loved spending time with his cousins. He never experienced that in his past life. Ron Weasley may have been a brother to him and Hermione a sister but they never really had the composition and attunement with each other that Harry had with his cousins of this life. Perhaps it helped when one shared blood.

Regardless, there was a sort of peacefulness and carefree attitude he could adorn when he did. The last time he did so was after the Greyjoy's Rebellion but Jon wasn't there and he missed his cousin like he did the others.

Sansa clutched his arm since as, in her own words, 'wanted to be escorted like a proper lady'. Arya was marveled at all the sights while Robb, Jon and Bran were looking at all the wares more specifically the sharp objects of the blacksmiths.

They didn't have an escort because frankly they didn't need one. Harry was well-loved by all the people that lived there and they knew who to thank for their prospering lives.

That is to say if Hadrian didn't notice the four Winter Guards and a few of the Stark household guard shadowing them.

Despite that though the laughing and merriment of the six was shared by most. Though Sansa did sort of sour the mood when she vehemently denied causing ruckus and having a bunch of fun.

It also didn't help Harry's slightly soured mood at having been forced into a marriage, when Sansa claimed he should be acting like a 'proper lord' and be above all the childish antics he wanted to take part in.

All this culminated into a shortening of their time when Hadrian finally declared that they should head back to the castle when the copy of Catelyn Tully didn't want to do anything the others wanted to do and they couldn't very well leave her behind.

Hadrian would be glad when the day came when Sansa was to foster at the Vale.

* * *

Hadrian Stark sighed in exasperation as he palmed his forehead.

At fifteen name-days old, he was - to his dismay – one of the most eligible bachelors in Westeros. Being Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell and head of the one of the most powerful houses and families in Westeros tended to have that effect.

He was angry in the regard that he was effectively trapped. The first being Alys Karstark. This had both benefits and repercussions. Benefits included cementing his hold on the North and appeasing his fellow lords while furthering his own agenda without having to be scrutinized for his every action.

He'd rather not think of the insult he would be ensuring by having Alys as his wife.

He had to hand it to Tywin in that regard as he had seen that cunning mind that he wanted the North under his thumb and the only way for that to happen was by royal betrothal.

Robert Baratheon, the First of his Name along with his many other titles, had finally bent under the pressure of the Old Lion and his wife and issued a request for Hadrian to meet the royal family at King's Landing.

Hadrian being forced into marrying Myrcella Baratheon was a move by two different players for the same reason. Jon Arryn and Tywin Lannister wanting to get control of the powerful North.

The young wolf knew that the other lords would be displeased but knew he was being forced into this. Especially Lord Karstark. Hadrian had after all visited Karhold on many occasions and had a blooming relationship with his eldest child.

Alys was no doubt saddened. Hadrian knew a crush when he saw one and hopefully she didn't take the heartbreak out on him or Robb who she was now betrothed to.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when one of his household guard came into the cabin letting him know that they were docking at the deep harbor port of King's Landing.

Hadrian nodded and stood to leave. _Winter_ at his hip and his wolf pelt cloak wrapped around him which he quickly shed. The summer heat bearing down upon them was rather uncomfortable. The North had perfect weather and cool nights but no stifling heat that he grew up in. He could thank the runic array he created for that.

He rather missed the humid heat of the south.

But not enough to envy those that lived here.

He was greeted at the harbor by a retinue of gold cloaks and the Lord Hand himself. Jon Arryn of the Vale along with several of his household knights.

 _This is definitely going to be interesting._ Hadrian thought with glee.

After all, the Vale now possessed several thousand less mouths to feed.

* * *

"This is an unprovoked attack!" Jon shouted at Hadrian from within the small council room. Hadrian looked disinterested as did Lord Varys, Renly, Stannis and the two other Northern lords present in the room, Wyman and Eddard.

Baelish, on the other hand, made Hadrian want to wish upon a merry star that he had a rather large pike to adorn the man's smirking head upon. Hadrian did a cursory scan of the man's surface thoughts and found himself wanting to bleach his mind of the thoughts that pervaded the Master of Coin.

He would need to let Eddard know the kinds of things the mousy man wanted to do to his wife. Perhaps a liberal application of the _Imperio_ curse and force the man to brag his supposed exploits to the Lord of the Moat? Well, it would further distance his uncle from the Hand to allow such a weasel to sit upon one of the most important seats in Westeros.

Hadrian, tired of tirade that has been going on for sometime, stood and slammed his palms on the table causing it to shake and almost buckle at the sudden and strong force. "Lord Hand, if its war you want, then you will get it." He paused. "Even the King does not care for what happened at the Sister Isles. If he did he would be here himself reprimanding me. Face it Lord Arryn, the Sistermen are scum and have been attacking _innocent_ merchants and traders from all over the world. To let them continue their ways, would stain not only the North but the Vale as well where honor is held in the highest regard."

That shut the elder man up.

Hadrian would not allow a region that could be in his control in the near future be allowed to fall so far. It grated on his nerves that Jon Arryn of the _fucking Vale,_ of all places, would give second chances to the thieving and raping bastards of their eastern shores.

It reminded him too much of Dumbledore and his foolishness regarding the Blood War. He would not allow the same mistake be made again.

"Now that this issue has been taken care of." Hadrian said with conviction and a pointed look at the Lord Hand. "I am here to discuss the betrothal between myself and Princess Myrcella with the King." Hadrian made a show of looking across the table. "However, I see ourselves absent a King."

"His Grace will be joining us in a few moments." Varys stated, if a little sweetly, and with a knowing glint in his eye. Hadrian was glad that he rooted what few _birds_ the eunuch had in the North from their perches. While Hadrian knew without a doubt that the Spymaster had other ways of gaining information, it was best to destroy the more reliable sources he had at his disposal.

The group of councilors sat in awkward silence as they waited for King Robert to arrive. Harry, however, quite enjoyed it. So much so that he jubilantly and rather obnoxiously made conversation with the up-tight Stannis.

By making conversation, the young Wolf actually meant talking the older man's ear off with him subtly sneering and growling at him in annoyance.

Hadrian's fun was interrupted in short order when King Robert followed by Lord Lannister walked in and the Wolf of Winterfell had to keep the shock off his face at weight gained by the Demon of the Trident. While by no means obese, he was definitely on his way there.

They all rose in respect until he sat down. "Wine!" The King demanded and a servant came scurrying in with a pitcher of the sweet beverage and quickly set it down in front of the King.

Hadrian's respect for the man who in large part avenged his father's death sank a bit more.

After taking a quick gulp of the red liquid the King barked a laugh and his flushed face turned towards the Wolf of Winterfell. "Ah Hadrian Stark! You grow bigger each passing year! I remember when you were a little whelp just at my knee! Now look at you!" He gestured widely at Harry. "A man grown!"

They all sat down at that.

"So Hadrian, I want a greater alliance between our two families!" He boisterously declared. "A royal marriage to bind our families together!"

Hadrian nodded but said nothing. He could tell that the King really wanted to ask Ned for Robb or even perhaps Sansa for Joffrey.

"Myrcella is twelve namedays old and Tywin and Cersei," Everyone took note of how he said such names with disdain except Myrcella's which was said in mild indifference. "have decided that the marriage will be held when she is six and ten here in the capitol at the Great Sept of Baelor."

That was where Hadrian interjected his own thoughts. "I cannot allow that, Your Grace." Hadrian stated. "The Starks of Winterfell have always and will always follow the Old Gods, if she is to become a Stark and get the respect of the North then she must be married the way the North have always done. The way I see it is that she will be ruling the North by my side rather than the Seven Kingdoms. It would be a way for the Baratheon name to garner even more respect from the North."

There was some discomfort evident in their shuffling postures. "We can hold a celebration here." Hadrian conceded. "But the main ceremony will be held in Winterfell. Whatever festivities can be held here."

Robert, after a moment of drinking another flagon of wine and taking a rather deep breath, responded in his booming voice. "I can accept those terms." Then in a sincere voice that surprised everyone present added, "I only ask that there be no bedding ceremony. Gods only know what'll become of the man that touches my daughter in such a way."

Hadrian immediately agreed. "Do not worry, Your Grace. I find such a practice rather degrading, any man who touches your daughter and my betrothed in such a way will lose their hand."

Eddard was rather relieved at that. When he wedded Catelyn he wanted to knock the men cold who pawed at her. He couldn't because he was rather timid and shy still then. Ned knew that Hadrian would make good on his promise on any who touched Myrcella like that.

Gods only know what he would do if he began to care for the young woman.

It was several hours later when they finished ironing out the details. What the dowry would be, who was paying for what and who would be at the ceremony and a bunch of other non-sensical things that made Hadrian want to tear his eyes and ears off and shove them in a burning pit of dragon fire.

The simpering and stuttering fool that was Pycelle was an incredibly annoying act and it took all of Hadrian's patience not to call the grey rat out on it.

Brown-nosing Baelish had made several back-handed compliments on Northern success and had made several undermining offers to manage the Northern finances for the duration of the wedding. That is why Hadrian had brought master economist Wyman here. He would be managing the finances with Tywin and Cersei.

To allow the sole reason the Crown was in as much debt as it was anywhere near the Stark treasury would be just plain stupid.

Plus it offered a way to lure the Lions of Casterly Rock into the coveted wealth of the Starks of Winterfell without making it obvious. After all, one can only hunt for the best outcome with salivating and unnoticeable bait.

The Spymaster that was Varys kept silent most of the time only offering platitudes and other rather poking questions into Northern military might and the state of affairs in the North. Hadrian had done a surface brushing of the eunuch's thoughts and found it surprisingly empty.

He had intended to do a rather deeper intrusion but was distracted by the flamboyant Renly commenting on the Tyrells having been at the Red Keep and wanting to meet with the Stark Lord. Stannis had kept quiet for the most part taking most of his time and investing it into glaring into his elder and younger brother and those around him.

By then it was nearing nightfall and Hadrian was on his last nerves. The amount of stupid in one room was so damn high that he didn't know whether to be impressed or depressed at that fact. Hadrian was counting his lucky stars that they weren't even planning the finer details of the wedding just yet. He would throw that planning disaster on top of some unfortunate sod that was actually decent at such things.

* * *

He retreated to his room in a hazy encumbrance. The leather jerkin on him getting rather stuffy and stifling in his sweat. He got to his room in relative ease and only stopped once to have a servant draw him a bath.

Hadrian felt bad for his uncle and Wyman. They would be used to the nice weather and cool and pleasant nights of the North and not the suffocating and hot summers of the South.

He entered the lavish room of the Red Keep and was greeted by the bath having already been done with. He quickly shed his tunic and clothes and eased himself in the soothing cool waters.

His senses tingled while he relaxed. "Jaqen." Hadrian greeted from closed eyes. Harry waved his right hand subtly and cast some security charms and silencing charms around the room.

"A Man is impressed with the Wolf's abilities." The robed and cowled man stated from his wooden seat that accompanied the wooden table. "A Man knows that the Wolf has keen senses."

Hadrian only nodded as he further reclined in his tub. "Tell me how your efforts are going."

"The Wolf has asked a Man to establish a network of ears and eyes. A Man has succeeded in this regard. While not as vast as a Bird's song nor as lavish as a Whore's mouth, a Man has effectiveness and reliability on the Wolf's side."

Having grown used to the poetic speak of the Faceless Man that had come into his service directly after the Greyjoy's Rebellion, Hadrian was able to deduce what the man who identified himself as Jaqen had stated. "Anything of note that I should be concerned about?"

"A Man has found that a Bear of Mormont is in league with binding chains." Hadrian opened his eyes only a little at that. Jorah had went to Lannisport for the tourney after the Greyjoy's Rebellion. Hadrian had thought nothing of it because frankly, he didn't care. In an impressive turn of events Jorah had won the tourney and asked for a Hightower as a wife. Hadrian saw this for what it was.

A Hightower would never be caught dead with a Mormont or someone as far North. Olenna was making moves into the North and was using the Hightower family to have some influence there.

If she wished to play that game then Harry would let her fail in that regard. Jorah was a greedy bastard with no access to the Mormont treasury other than a measly stipend and an expensive wife to provide for.

"The Wolf will know by the Master Grey Rat and the Spider in the morrow. A Bear flees east with his Tower on High."

"Does Jorah have _Longclaw_?" Hadrian asked. House Mormont would not so easily play with others nicely if they lost their ancestral blade.

Jaqen subtly shook his head. "The Steel of Old Valyria has been left behind. A Bear has some semblance of honor in that regard."

Hadrian nodded. "Assign a person to tail him and to be ready to kill him at a moment's notice. I want to know what he plans on doing."

"The Wolf has spoken and a Man will see it done."

Hadrian relaxed into his soothing bath at the response. "What of our efforts in Volantis?"

"A Man has his doubts if the Wolf's plan is even viable." Jaqen admitted. "The Fire God of the Red Religion may be prepared for what the Wolf may do."

"That is no matter." Hadrian responded as he rose from the bath and donned what clothes were prepared for him. "Just have them ready to kill any that leave the safety of their temples."

Jaqen nodded and stayed silent as Hadrian sat in front of him in the clothes that he had brought with him. They were similar to the silks he had while in Starfall, and had the Dornish style but the Northern grim and dark colors.

"What of the Tyrells and the Lannisters?" Hadrian ventured.

Jaqen shifted in his chair. "A wilting Rose is here in the Landing of Kings and is looking for a way to benefit from the Wolf. A wilting Rose is afraid of what may become of Garden on High should it continue to lose the gold of the no longer despondent Winters."

Hadrian thought for a long moment before deciding he would deal with Olenna when she made her next move.

"A Man can confirm that the rumors of the gold rivers drying are indeed true. Within the coming years the Lions of the Rock will be out of gold to wield. An Old Lion seeks to gain control of the mines of gold the Wolf has in his possession as part of a bride price for the young Stag princess."

Considering that House Stark was now one of the wealthiest houses and would continue to live frugal lifestyles, the treasury in Winterfell was literally overflowing and the rooms Hadrian had discovered below the elder castle of the North were being converted to hold the massive wealth that was now at his disposal. Under the stewardship of House Goldstark, there were several mines owned by the Starks of Winterfell directly.

"Thank you Jaqen. Continue your efforts but be sure we are cautious." Hadrian said quietly.

"A Man and the order are born of caution. The Wolf has no need to worry." And with that the Faceless Man left. Through a window, a hidden passage or even the front door, Hadrian did not want to know nor did he care.

What he did care about at the moment though was getting some sleep to which he readily fell into the feather bed.

* * *

Myrcella Baratheon was scared. She didn't want to disappoint her father.

Rather her banshee of a mother could go to the Seven Hells for all she cared. She could definitely see her hand in this in an effort to get rid of her and whatever claim she had to a throne she would never want.

She, however, was in luck. She had only heard good things of the Wolf of Winterfell. Granted the Arrow Catcher had awe-inspiring stories about him that made just about every lady want to jump his bones, even though he was only five and ten.

Even the Howl of the Wolf, as depressing as the song was, made Hadrian Stark out to be the heartbreak to those that heard it.

Her mind, even being twelve namedays old, was sharp and cunning. While her father never spent much time with her and her mother was either attempting to turn her into a glass doll or deriding her very presence, Lord Commander Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard had taught her about what he knew of court politics of the den of snakes that was King's Landing.

From the lessons the Lord Commander had given her, she was able to deduce that her betrothed, was as much forced as she was to partake in the arrangement. From the progression of the North and the rise of House Stark as one of the most powerful houses in the realm, it was as clear as day, at least to the princess, that Hadrian Stark was attempting to not only create a powerful region but also cement the loyalty of the Northern houses to House Stark.

Marrying a southron lady would be detrimental to the loyalty of the Stark household at worst or just make the lords neutral in their thoughts regarding only their liege lord at best.

Either outcome was not at all desirable to a Great House in Westeros.

Luckily, being a princess and marrying into the royal family lessened the blow, if only slightly.

She was standing from the Red Keep balcony waiting for her betrothed to come to her as a servant had come to inform her with her mother standing above her, watching her like a hawk. Myrcella often wondered where she stood in relation to the Queen Consort.

In Myrcella's opinion, Cersei looked down on everyone, even the King and grandfather, though she never did it to Tywin's face, believing herself to be the gods' gift to the people of the world and that everyone should worship her as such.

She even had attempted to batter that ideal in her children, though Tommen, Joanna and herself never took it to heart. Only the sadistic Joffrey ever did. After all, _her precious lion_ and key to power could _never_ do any _wrong._

When Hadrian finally did arrive, he was clad in a dark brown silks that looked rather fetching on him. The tunic was slightly to the elbows and tight with a snarling Direwolf head embroidered above his right breast with dark brown breeches and black boots. Around his waist the sheathed Valyrian Steel sword, _Winter_ , at his side.

"Your Grace." Hadrian bowed low at the waist and brushed his lips along the knuckles of the Queen Consort. Then he turned to Myrcella, "Your Grace." He smiled slightly at the younger girl as he repeated the same action. "May I have the honor of escorting you through the gardens?"

Myrcella nodded with a slight curtsey. "Of course, my lord."

Hadrian smiled slightly at Cersei who simply slightly sneered at the young man and stalked off with two Kingsguard in her wake.

It didn't take a genius to figure out the disdain she held for just about everyone.

He thanked his lucky stars it was Ser Barristan the Bold that was assigned to the princess' guard. From yesterday, Harry could only deduce that King Robert cared a lot more for his children than he let on, or at least for Myrcella he did. So having the best knight in Westeros assigned for Myrcella's protection was no shock.

It also played into Harry's favor as the honorable knight could not be bought nor bullied into submission. Hadrian would be discussing sensitive things with the princess.

With the first being, why the fuck her hair was dyed a horrendous Lannister blonde.

"So Myrcella," Hadrian began as they wandered the gardens. It was just before high noon and the sun hadn't yet its reached its peak today. Harry had forewent his daily morning ritual of drills and martial training so as to present a non-sweaty and barbaric savage of the North. "tell me what do you enjoy doing?" Her arm was entwined with his own and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was several paces behind. Enough to be respectful of their privacy but close enough that should anything happen he could get to them as quickly as possible.

Puzzled at the question as her mother had once told her that boys, specifically teenaged boys were braggarts and cared not for their female counterparts. Considering she only had her brother Joffrey to use as an example and the many knights that usually were around the Red Keep, it was hard to argue with her.

Still though, the Princess of Westeros answered the phrase drilled into her mind by her banshee of a mother. "I enjoy walking in the gardens, singing and sewing." She had to applause herself as she might've even convinced herself that.

"Interesting." Hadrian commented as the duo rounded a corner. "Though I would rather you tell me what you _really_ enjoy doing."

Maybe she wasn't as convincing as she thought.

She paused as she looked skeptically around, fearing a ruse. Sensing nor seeing anyone that she knew for a fact to be a spy for someone, which was odd, she responded earnestly yet quickly. "I hate being a lady."

Hadrian smiled wolfishly at her and she had to use every ounce of her upbringing not to allow a blush to show on her face. "I have a cousin who is much the same. She would rather learn to shoot a bow than learn the harp."

Myrcella beamed though it was subdued just in case it was a trick. "I would love to meet her."

Hadrian only nodded but the slight smile was still there as they continued to walk the gardens. "You still haven't told me what you enjoy doing."

She nodded and responded. "I do enjoy watching the many tourneys my father has, particularly the melee. Such chaos is really awe striking."

Hadrian laughed. "I have only been to one tourney when I was four namedays old and I can hardly remember it."

"There aren't many tourneys in the North?" She ventured her question.

Hadrian shook his head. "Not particularly. There are such things as War Games, much more chaotic I believe and much more deadly."

"War games, my lord?"

"As the name implies, it is to simulate actual battlefield conditions. A group of four hundred men versus another group of four hundred men. The objectives can vary from each game such as which team is the last standing or holding a certain objective. However, only men apart of the standing army can participate."

Myrcella nodded awe-stricken at the notion of such a thing even existing. "I would very much like to see one." The princess conceded as they continued their walk. "I guess I also like archery, though it does seem boring."

The Stark lord agreed. "Yes, sometimes it can be. Especially when hunting and waiting for the perfect time to loose an arrow. Sometimes you are so focused that you do not even notice those with you."

They continued their walk through the gardens mostly talking about each other's interests. For example, Myrcella enjoyed when Jon Arryn held court and the few times her father had as well, the political intrigue always baffled her and had expressed a desire to see Northern court politics in action as well.

It was just after high noon when Hadrian asked the question that had been on his mind since the beginning of their stroll. They were on their way back inside the Red Keep.

"My princess, I do have one question."

"Ask away, Harry." She quickly stuttered out her next comment. "I-if it alright that I call you that?" For some odd reason she felt strangely comfortable in the Northman's presence.

The Wolf of Winterfell chuckled lightly at that as he shook his head. "It is no matter, we are after all betrothed." He schooled his features slightly and attempted to meet her sapphire gaze with his own multicolored one. "I was wondering if you have dyed your hair blonde. I am sorry if I caused offense, I only took note that the roots of your hair are a raven black."

Myrcella frowned a little bit before looking away. She wanted to tell him a lie and say she wanted it that way but a strange feeling welled up inside her and she moved her gaze back into her betrothed's multicolored ones. It was at that moment that she knew that she could tell him her deepest darkest secrets (not that she had any, she was pretty much an open book to her family) and he would never question her nor would he laugh at her. She chanced a look around and found the immediate area completely deserted of servants and other people that would normally be patrolling these halls.

It was only them two and the Kingsguard that was Ser Barristan the Bold. She sighed slightly and conceded. "My mother had my hair dyed. It was originally black."

Harry nodded and said no more on the matter and asked if she would like to have lunch.

She beamed at him brightly. "I would love to!"

In Ser Barristan's opinion, he couldn't have been more happier for his charge.

* * *

Hadrian retired to his room that night in a happy mood.

What retreated the smile on his face was the presence of two of the Kingsguard in front of it, Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Boros Blount standing in front of the door to his quarters. His hand found itself on top of the hilt to _Winter._

"The Queen will see you now." Ser Meryn sneered at him.

The Wolf of Winterfell made no pretext to move but the ever so slight narrowing of his eyes and a foreboding aura taking ahold of the space around them.

"I was not aware I was meeting with the Queen." Hadrian responded. His tone held no emotion but the beginnings of icicles could be felt in the sound.

Trant seemed to have an ever-present sneer on his face whereas Blount had a stony façade on his face. Harry deduced he should be more worried about the dark haired man rather than the man that smelt like he hadn't bathed in a week. Their hands went to the hilts of their swords.

"Well you whelp-"

"And that is your first mistake _Ser._ " Harry emphasized the man's title. "You, a Kingsguard may wield the King's justice just as well as I do but I am not as you say as _whelp_."

It was just when the trio went to draw their swords when the door opened to reveal a blonde haired woman opening the door to Hadrian's quarters. It was definitely not the Queen and more likely a handmaiden to her. The three men outside, however, quickly slipped their swords back into their sheathes at her presence however as if the hostile exchange never took place.

"My lord." The handmaiden curtsied. "The Queen would like to have a moment of your time." She stated the supposed question into an overruling statement.

Hadrian's eyes never left Ser Boros Blount's lifeless and unfaltering gaze. The Wolf of Winterfell completely disregarding the sneering face of the other Kingsguard. He walked into the presence of the Queen Consort who idly sipping on a chalice of wine and flippantly regarding the young Wolf.

Hadrian bowed at the waist but the thoughts of his own disdain regarding the woman didn't disappear. "Hadrian Stark." The Queen said dismissively with something not described a sneer but something akin to it. A slight smiling sneer was something the woman probably perfected to blend her feelings into the perfect mask. It looked as if she was searching for something if the parchments scattered about the floor and rummaged strongbox was any indication.

"To what do I owe this unexpected visit?" He stated. Harry knew what she was looking for. The journal he hid in an empty vase with a repelling charm on it. While no would think to look there, the charm working in tandem with the unexpecting hiding spot served to doubly protect the information.

"Ah merely to indulge myself in the curiosities of the North." Her sweet tone laced with slight venom.

"And what curiosities would that be?" Hadrian asked. He elected to stay standing with his peripheral vision in sight of the closed door and the meek handmaiden.

"Just the sort to make you head of the _second_ wealthiest family in Westeros." She sipped on her wine with a greedy glint in her eye.

Hadrian seeing no reason not to indulge her but also seeing none to do so, responded in a flat but deceivingly charming response. "Only a little bit of long term investment."

Her smiled faltered a second and a slight growl escaped but when Hadrian innocently looked at her she put her crumbling façade up once more.

She took another sip of her wine before speaking once again. "Tell me what do you know of your aunt. Lyanna, I think her name was."

That perplexed Harry. Here he was thinking that he would have to trade verbal punched with the Queen of Westeros now she was talking about his deceased family. Hadrian detected a hint of scorn in her voice but also a sense of accomplishment.

"I only met her once when I was three. She was betrothed to King Robert and that she was kidnapped by Rhaegar near Summerhall when she was making her way to Starfall."

Cersei had an smug look on her face as she sipped on her wine. "Oh the Wolf of Winterfell doesn't know? How tragic. Tragic indeed."

And at that she quickly took her leave and Hadrian wanted to go and plunder her mind for all the secrets she had.

 _ **Until Next Time!**_


	9. IX - Revelations

_**Enjoy!**_

Hadrian add several disillusionment charms to his person. Added with a cowl that he was able to take off of Jaqen, who had come with two other Faceless men as soon as word reached them that Hadrian was essentially by himself with the Queen, and silencing charmed boots he was as hidden as the Faceless Men.

Figuratively speaking of course. The Faceless Men became anyone and everyone to become invisible.

Hadrian Stark literally became invisible.

He walked _flippantly through out the halls. Given how powerful and perfected these two particular charms were, he was invisible to the naked eye and silent as the crypts of Winterfell._

He went straight to the Queen's quarters and with a simple touch of his fingers the Kingslayer who was the guard of his sister that night went immobile as a statue and knocked out cold. He would wake when he finished his business with the queen and wouldn't notice anything wrong.

Hopefully, that is.

He slipped into the quarters of Cersei Lannister quietly and cast several silencing charms around the room. Jaqen and the two Faceless men with him would take care of any errant spies and birds in the walls of the Red Keep.

The Wolf turned his attention towards the Lannister woman on the feather bed. Had he been a hot-blooded southron teenager, the buxom and nude form of Cersei Lannister would've caused him to have fainted right there on the spot.

But he was not.

Right now, a cold-blooded Wolf of the North made his way towards the woman that had information on his family.

Hadrian sat on a stool and hit the nude woman with a sleeping curse. She would not wake until he removed the curse.

Hadrian placed a palm onto the forehead of Cersei Lannister, closed his eyes and muttered the curse that was the best at gathering information.

 _"Legilimens."_

 _Instantly Hadrian entered the mind of the Lioness. He found himself in a dark abyss, in traditional light armor worn by Dornish infantry and Winter at his hip. He willed the information he sought forward and found himself in memory lane with the woman._

 _Hadrian found himself in the Great Hall of the Red Keep, Lannister men were everywhere as were Baratheon soldiers as well as a few courtiers that were brave enough or rather greedy enough to attempt to gather favor with the new ruling couple. Cersei was sitting on a chair next to the Iron Throne and Harry knew how desperately she wanted to sit in it to be the one in power. Harry saw King Robert dismiss all those within the court even the protesting Kingsguard. The full and terrifying height of the Demon of the Trident being brought to bear as many quickly scurried out. Behind him, cowering slightly behind the tree trunk that was his steel plated leg, was a small girl clutching a doll in her arms. Her wild raven black hair and stormy blue eyes looking both fearful and in wonderment at the Great Hall._

 _The visage of his aunt Lyanna was brought to the forefront of his mind. The sharp features of nobility and prominent cheekbones instantly denoting her as the daughter of Robert and the wild look of her hair and large eyes reminded him of the wolfish characteristics of the Stark line._

 _Hadrian's suspicions were confirmed when Robert's shouting voice beckoned Cersei to him. This had to have been after they were married because the Queen Consort was already great with child._

 _Cersei Lannister rose from her chair with a neutral expression on her face but inside she was absolutely furious and if the twitching of her eyes were any indication then she was struggling to maintain that visage._

 _"This here is Lynarra Baratheon, my daughter with Lyanna. One of my bannermen, Dondarrion had accosted several Targaryen loyalists and rescued her."_

 _That revelation confirmed his suspicions. "I wasn't aware that Lyanna and you were married." Cersei stated. "Obviously a bastard."_

 _That was the wrong thing to say. Hadrian instantly felt protective of the girl and he had half a mind to exit the memory and poison the Queen then and there. Robert held no such qualms. He instantly rounded on the woman and instantly struck Cersei across the face. While Hadrian did not at all condone the abusing of woman there was something satisfying about that slap that she received and the Wolf determined that she received her punishment._

 _She fell to the ground and looked just as surprised as Lynarra did who cowered away even further behind her father._

 _"You dare speak ill of her?" He barked. "Had she still been alive she would be Queen right now while you rotted in Casterly Rock!" Robert bellowed in rage. The King spat spittle before he finally calmed down and looked mightily guilty with what he did._

 _Suddenly he looked as if he aged a several decades as he sighed. He rubbed his eyes in tiredness and helped the proud Cersei up who surprisingly looked remarkable composed despite being on the receiving end of a punch from the Demon of the Trident who was still in his prime._

 _Hadrian did note that the Lannister woman's eyes did have a slight redness and puffiness to them however._

 _"I am sorry." He stated sincerely. "She is here, however, and will not be leaving. I ask that not only you keep her origins a secret. I am prepared to abdicate whatever claim she may have to the throne in return, only that she be brought up here with me."_

 _Cersei merely nodded._

* * *

Hadrian retreated from the mind of the viper woman, before leaving in a haste. He found what she thought was blackmail. It sickened him to even think of marrying his cousin and could feel his insides wanting to cough up his dinner.

The wolf quelled the feeling, however. He would ensure the girl is well taken care of. He wouldn't marry her though. That much was for sure.

He would only keep up the guise of being a suitor. If things were going the way they were going right now, then Robert Baratheon would drink and eat himself into a grave and Cersei, in her unquenchable thirst of power, would attempt to kill the girl regardless.

The plan also worked in his favor. Hadrian was, without a doubt surprised that Cersei had not told her father of Myrcella's origins. And it was going to bite her in the ass. The Old Lion would feel secure in his bid for total control of the throne and would direct his attention elsewhere. Arryn was likely silently fuming from the destruction of the Sisters but nothing could be done about that and now that a betrothal was in place for him, he would be sent into a false sense of security that Hadrian would no longer step out of line.

If anything, Hadrian was going to cross that very line, destroy it and run rampant into the metaphorical territory that was forbidden to him.

He retreated to his room and after ensuring that his room was well-guarded, he fell into a restless slumber.

The Wolf awoke with a howling yawn, much to the annoyance of nearby inhabitants of the Red Keep. However, he quickly dressed in his dark colored Dornish styled clothes and the Red Keep was certainly never truly dead.

Servants were already busying themselves with their daily duties and guards were exchanging posts.

He broke his fast in a dining room. A small breakfast of bread, salt, nicely cooked bacon and sausage with a drink of wine and a side of sliced apples. Not the breakfast of kings but more than enough to carry him to his next meal.

He wondered the grounds after that. Two Northmen already marching behind him as silent guards, their spears tapping the ground as makeshift walk sticks. Hadrian soon found himself in the gardens and was quickly pulled to a stop as a brightly dressed servant in forest green livery and a golden rose pinned above his right breast.

"Lady Olenna of Highgarden would like to meet with you, my Lord Stark." He said in an upright step.

Hadrian glanced across the gardens where he spied that the matriarch of the Reach had commandeered a large terrace with a outcropping for an outdoor meal and over a dozen handmaidens were strolling about and several Highgarden guards in steel armor. Servants were milling about doing their daily tasks.

"Take me to her." He simply said. Hadrian, after last night's ordeal, had a Faceless man tailing him at all times. If things got ugly he had no doubt that the Northmen would come out top. Not that he was expecting trouble, that is.

The servant nodded and bowed slightly before gesturing to follow him. Hadrian and his guards closely followed.

It was to no surprise to the Wolf of Winterfell that the old woman of Highgarden was the fist of power in the Reach. Cold, calculating eyes and a deceitful and feigning smile that swept her wrinkled features and exuded a confidence that only one absolute in their position could have.

Had she been in his other life, Hadrian would've automatically pegged her for a Slytherin. One, after all, had to be if they were to play the Game.

"Ah Lord Stark." She nodded her respect and held out her hand for the customary greeting among nobles. The wolf noted that she used his title. While most would think nothing of it, he knew that she could've called him Stark or even child and simply excused her disrespect with an aged mind. This was her way of saying that she was respecting his position and his power.

Hadrian held her palm and brushed his lips across her knuckles. "Lady Olenna." Hadrian dismissed his guards with a gesture of his head. The Old Rose gestured for him to sit and called out for a servant to bring out some refreshments. She didn't need to check if anyone heard her, she knew her order would be carried out.

"What do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?" Hadrian questioned as he reclined slightly in his cushioned seat.

"Let us cut out the pleasantries, shall we?" Olenna said almost flippantly. There was no disrespect in her tone and Hadrian had his respect go up for her. This would be a business meeting. A cunning one but one between two equals, not one looking down or over the other.

Hadrian nodded and the elder woman continued. "I want an increase of trade between the Reach and the North."

"And what would this entail? You know that the North is doing well with the Free Cities and the Riverlands." It was merely fact and praising her own intelligence. The North had basically cut-off ties to the Reach and she would not boldly ask for something had she not thought it through.

"I propose the sale of goods from the Reach to be sold through Northern merchants at the Free Cities."

Had Hadrian not had a clamp on his emotions, his surprise would've been known to all. "I will be honest with you, I was expecting something else."

Olenna chuckled lightly and shook her head in a grandmotherly way. "Lord Stark, you flatter me." There was a pause as Olenna's servant brought out a pitcher of wine and two cups and served the two. They both took a sip and set the cups down.

"So tell me why, you want Northmen to sell wares of the Reach."

"Well, because your people are trusted in the Free Cities. It is no secret that the business of the North is incredibly lucrative. For the Reach, our shrewdness and naivety is known." She stated. "Dothraki hordes and pillagers ransack towns and villages on a daily bases in Essos, leaving many to starve."

"Didn't know you were a charitable person." Hadrian dryly remarked.

"Oh! Quite the contrary, I will sell the food for reduced prices in bulk, yes but I will be merely capitalizing on a market."

It went without saying that the specific market was that of slaves. Something Harry was working to rectify. Food in bulk at cheap prices would give the Reach the source of income that they lost when the North became self-sustaining. The North already had established and relatively secure trade routes now that the Sistermen were gone.

Hadrian thought for a moment as he sipped on the rich drink. "I will send Lord Manderly to you. The both of you can come up with the details, pertaining to this. I expect that the Northmen will get a cut of the sale?"

"Of course." She said with a nod.

"With your leave, Lady Olenna?" He stood in respect and she nodded, instead of using her more known dismissive wave. His guards followed closely behind.

The following weeks, Hadrian had taken to being with Myrcella for a grand majority of the time. He had sworn his fealty to Robert Baratheon and had left King's Landing feeling giddy as Jaqen continued to report that his projects were coming along nicely.

After all, the best secrets were the ones no one knew existed.

 **Before I get tarred, feathered and burnt at the stake for not updating or these new outcomes, I would very much like to explain myself.**

 _ **I want everyone to know, who reads this AN that is, is that I am incredibly busy at the moment and updates from now on will be very sporadic. Let us just say that, Life has a way of throwing curveballs and I very well have hit a couple home runs these past few months. My job is keeping me busy and I have recently moved, and to add on to that, I have been working on my very own original work. It is still a WIP and will not be revealed until it is in its finishing stages (which is still a long, long ways away) but suffice to say I am proud of it.**_

 _ **Back to the matter at hand, I would like to say before I get flamed that "Cersei wouldn't do that!" or "This doesn't make sense!", be aware that this is AU and a lot will change. Personalities will change to fit the needs of the story. No worry's though, Cersei will still be a power hungry bitch and is incredibly stupid but (Say what you will) she does have her moments of ingenuity.**_

 _ **I want my story to generate intrigue and discussion between, you, the readers. While that may be hard from a Fanfiction . net standpoint, I still want the story to make the reader truly think what may happen like the original ASOIAF and GOT, books and shows respectively.**_

 _ **I don't want this story to have a clear, linear path for the readers to guess where it is headed. Only the author should know what will happen in future events.**_

 _ **With that rant over, I would again like to apologize for the wait and incognito mode that I had taken and for the short chapter.**_

 _ **Until Next Time!**_


	10. X

_**Enjoy!**_

Jorah Mormont gazed out and into the city that was Pentos, taking great care not to expose himself too much. He would bite down his pride enough to know that to underestimate the Stark Lord. Stark would have sent someone to at least keep an eye on him, if not to kill him. Had Ned Stark been, at the very least still regent, Jorah might've gotten away with simple exile but the Wolf of Winterfell was known to exact justice.

He had even been approached by an agent of the eunuch in King's Landing to be a spy, to monitor and observe the young Targaryen children. He had outright denied him, knowing full well that the Master of Whispers would throw him to the wolves should a lucrative opportunity present itself.

But that got him thinking, he was a sellsword and a good one at that, and a former Northern lord. Those two things alone could present him as an incredible advisor to the up and coming Viserys.

That's what brought him to Pentos, specifically Illyrio's manse.

"Jorah Mormont." The rotund and yellow-bearded man smelled of oils and fragrances that made the hairs inside his nose knit and burn close together.

"Master Illyrio." Jorah stated with a hint of contempt and barely disguised disgust. How people even bathed in that stuff was beyond the former northern lord, even one as extra as him. Water and simple soaps did the trick just as well.

"May I ask how you fare this fine evening?"

Jorah turned slightly and regarded the fat man for a quick moment and didn't respond. "Young Stark's agents won't be here, at the manse that is." Illyrio stated, albeit somewhat ominously as if he was assured yet afraid at the same time. "No doubt they are waiting at the entrance."

"You know of Hadrian?" While it wasn't a far stretch for the well-connected man to know about him, it was weird that he seemed afraid of the young man.

"Ah yes. Lord Impaler. Those of Essos have taken to calling him that." Illyrio stated, shaking himself from the slight daze that took him over. "The wares of the North have gained a lot of traction, especially in Tyrosh, Myr and Lys. Reachmen are even selling their crop to the cities in the Bay of Slaves, albeit under the protection and supervision of the North."

The former Mormont lord scrunched his eyebrows in thought. "Lord Stark is dealing with slaves?"

"No, he's smart. He is the top, middle and end man in a deal made by the Reach." Illyrio's belly rumbled as he laughed loudly. "The Reach can't sell anything here in Essos. The damn flowers demand to high prices for the food they want to sell. The North buys it at half the price and turn around and sell it for three quarters of it, turning a twenty and five percent profit. They split that with the Reach at a sixty to forty. Not that the Reachmen know."

Jorah whistled at that. He had to further quell his pride to give Hadrian, his respect in that regard.

"What did you want?" The former Mormont lord asked after a few moments of silence.

"Ah, _his grace_ has asked for your presence." The Magister conceded, with slight mocking in his voice. It was no secret, to those in Essos, that the Beggar King was…well, a beggar. To Jorah, he was a means to an end. Should Viserys be able to get the khalassar he wanted, Westeros would be in deep trouble.

Especially given the climate and Jorah was no slouch in the politics that plagued Westeros. The limited contact he did have with his ex-wife when they were still wed taught as much. The Tyrells and the a good majority of the Reach would side with Viserys as would a good majority of Dorne. If anything, the Dayne household would either remain neutral or side with the Targaryen loyalists.

If Tywin was still alive by the time they went to Westeros, then they would face all of the Westerlands but Jorah highly doubted the Old Lion to live as long and the gold they wielded could only command so much respect as an Imp did not strike fear into the hearts of those that he would rule.

The few houses that remained in the Crownlands after Robert took the throne would most likely side with Viserys as well, only if Tywin was dead however.

Should that come to past, they would most likely have a few houses of the West also at their command. With those numbers, they would easily subdue the Stormlands and the rest of the Crownlands.

That left the Eerie and the North, arguably the worst to go to war with. However, the Eerie had grown complacent. Jorah was no fool. Under Jon Arryn's leadership, who had left stewardship under the Royce's, they grew fat, stupid and lazy. It didn't escape his notice that they had committed little to no troops in the Greyjoy Rebellion.

They felt secure in their mountains and beyond that they felt themselves superior to everyone else and given that they were one of the main contributors to the downfall of the Targaryens, they would either bend the knee or be put to the sword. If Jorah knew anything about Viserys, that much he could guarantee.

The North, his homeland, was the only real cause for concern. Had Moat Cailin not been rebuilt and the navy forces of the North been commissioned, it would've been an easy, albeit costly, fight to bring them back into the fold. But now, the more the former Mormont lord thought about it, the more he felt that any invading force into Northern lands would be met with both crippling losses and defeat. The Moat itself would be a tough nut to crack and navigating safely through the Neck would be a challenge in and of itself.

That was only the start of the North natural defenses. If they came at inopportune time, winter could set in and invading the North would be all but impossible. Combine that with the fact that his people were adept at guerilla warfare, they wouldn't be able to bring them back into the fold. The only real option for the North was to bring them in the same way Dorne was brought into the Seven Kingdoms.

Marriage.

And Hadrian Stark would not stoop as low to do that. Not if he could ensure the North's independence, should the opportunity present itself.

Jorah soon found himself in the presence of Viserys, where the platinum hair teenage boy was loudly demanding another pitcher of wine from one of the many _'servants'_ that worked under the wealthy Pentoshi Magister.

"My lord," The arrogant Targaryen boy had taken to Illyrio's wealth like a bee to honey as he merely waved a dismissive hand in their direction whilst being attended to by two servants. "I need your advice regarding something."

"Your grace?" The northman did not like taking orders from the boy-king. He much preferred the company of his sister, Daenerys. It helped that she was incredibly easy on the eyes, even if a little soft-spoken.

He would, however, provide any advice to the would-be king.

"What do you think of Westeros right now?"

And so Jorah told him all what he thought of only moments prior, dismissing the question as mere coincidence.

"Hmm." Was all Viserys voiced, before he took a healthy drink from an opulent chalice. " _When_ ," He stressed this word with an insane gleam in his eye and an arrogantly, loud, voice. "I get the army of savages, you will be my Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. It is the least I can do for someone who is a wealth of information. The Starks will be put to the sword as well as all those who betrayed my father." He quickly got distracted by another servant who was walking by with a tray of food.

Jorah nodded but that wasn't what he wanted. He only wanted to return to Bear Island and live out the rest of his days in peace.

The former Mormont lord knew this day would never come. Should he step into Westeros again, or more specifically the North, he would be killed on sight.

That didn't mean he wouldn't take such a prestigious position though.

"Khal Drogo will be here in three days time!" Illyrio declared, shaking him from his thoughts. Jorah wondered what they could possibly offer to the warlord that would get him to invade Westeros.

The northman quickly left at that. It was time to indulge in some of the more pleasurable aspects of life, to keep his mind from the politics of the world. He would get what he wanted, above returning home. The death of Hadrian Stark. The boy that started his path to embarrassment and scorn. He would see the boy-lord dead before the balding man met the Stranger.

* * *

Hadrian Stark was in his solar writing letters when Myrcella walked in after a quick knock. Hadrian, in the years since leaving King's Landing, had been incredibly busy. His many projects were a time consumer, along with his training, and court responsibilities there was not much he had in the way of spare time for himself or others.

Jon, with the assistance of Arya, had taken to ensuring the day to day running of the castle at least and doing his best in taming Arya's more adventurous tendencies. Theomore had more less been cut out of the entire equation, only attending meetings he was absolutely needed in (there were _none_ ), attending to the sick (which they were few if any), and attending meals where he sat in silence.

Hadrian had even been able to take over messenger birds in the form of owls and hawks, which were both much harder to spot and kill, even for skilled hunters such as himself. It was rather simple in that he only had to imbue said bird a small sliver of magic and from there the bird was able to develop a core on its own.

"Hello, Harry." Myrcella bounded to his side and hugged him slightly. Her previously dyed golden locks were now showing more dark brown roots and had only left her with tips of blonde. Hadrian, for all his attempts at showing his displeasure at being forced into a marriage with the girl, had rebounded on him and he saw the developing crush she had on the Stark Lord, who by now was twenty where she was five and ten.

Her birthday was fast approaching and thus the preparations for a wedding were now taking place.

Hadrian still didn't have a plan in place for ridding himself of this contracted agreement.

Outright refusal wasn't an enticing option as it would insult half of Westeros and Harry did not want to bring war upon the kingdoms _just yet._ After all, he did have to deal with the Seven, or rather six.

Killing her also wasn't an option. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't as cruel or heartless as many south of the Neck regarded him as. Sure, he could abuse his power as _Champion of Death,_ and have one of the Faceless Men take care of it, but it would raise more problems for him in the long run and he didn't need the death of someone who, for all intents and purposes, was innocent in the whole affair.

Needless to say, he hated not knowing what to do.

He nodded his acknowledgement and continued to work on the letters. Hadrian spied from the corner of his eye as she wrung her hands together in nervousness.

"Harry," She paused as she waited to get his attention. The Stark lord set down his quill and eyed the girl. She wore a simple forest green dress that had slightly muddy edges on the bottom and long sleeves that went to here wrists. Over it she wore a brown leather tunic that helped shield her from the more cold weather that was coming in. The tunic had the lion and stag royal heraldry etched above the right breast.

Her bright blue eyes shone with both nervousness and anticipation as she fished out a small parchment from a small brown pouch she kept at her hip. It looked similar to the ones that were received by ravens and since all Northern lords had gotten used to the fact of the more vicious birds of prey delivering their more important correspondence, it had to have come from south of the Neck.

She handed him the small parchment. "It's from my father." She said.

Hadrian quickly scanned the small parchment. It was merely notifying him that his presence was required at Moat Cailin.

The Stark Lord nodded and set the parchment down and stared at it for a full moment before nodding once again. He didn't like it one bit. Arya would be forced to come as well. It was an seemed if Moat Cailin was the destination then his uncle would insist on Arya being present. She would be disgruntled to say the least.

"Go and get ready, we leave after supper." He stated with a slight smile at the brightness that lit her face when he answered.

She giggled and left with a parting hug.

"Jaqen, find the Royal convoy." Hadrian said aloud as soon as he was sure that Myrcella was out of earshot. "Find out what the hell is going on." He nearly gritted his teeth and growled out the order. In all honesty, Hadrian was expecting the King to arrive at Winterfell on the new year considering Myrcella's birthday.

Something big would've had to happen to force the King personally to leave the Red Keep and all but order him to the south. Something that deeply scared the Demon of the Trident.

The Stark Lord was assured that even though his solar was empty, Jaqen would see to it that the request was carried out as fast as possible.

* * *

Robert Baratheon was scared. Not the _I'll piss my pants_ kind of scared but the _Something's wrong_ kind of scared.

Only a moon's past and Jon Arryn, Lord Hand of the King, Lord Paramount of the Eerie and Warden of the East, his father in all but blood, had quite suddenly, passed away.

Now normally, he wouldn't have thought much of it other than grieve, drink and whore his worries and troubles away.

But Jon Arryn was as strong of a bull the last time he saw him, which was only days earlier. What further perplexed him and caused him to worry was that, the Lord Hand was thoroughly examining the King.

Robert wasn't a stupid man. Many thought differently but he knew to conceal whilst in the court and den of vipers that was the Red Keep and the Crownlands as a whole.

So when Jon Arryn had come snooping around his family tree and his own features, he must've been suspecting something about Myrcella and, as much as he admired the old man, to bring his only true joy into the Game was something he would not allow. As even he did not know of Myrcella's _true_ origins and only the lies fed to him by Robert.

The only thing that made him feel fear anymore was the growing power of the Westerlands and, more specifically, the Lannisters. They were garnering more and more support and influence within the Crownlands.

Blasted Jon Arryn had to just up and die though. No warning, no sickness, just…death. Pycelle attributed it to a high and fast working fever that plagued him and claimed that he couldn't do anything to save the man when he had first been brought to him.

Robert suspected foul play but couldn't figure who would want the Lord Hand dead other than himself of course when the King had spied the house lineage book on the table. But he hadn't ordered such a thing to take place.

The Demon of the Trident never felt so isolated in his life, with his only recompense being Ser Barristan, as Stannis had taken to staying with Dragonstone and Renly was neglecting his duties as both Paramount of the Stormlands and also Master of Laws and instead was too busy partying with Tyrells.

He needed someone to trust and have his back. The only one capable of doing that was Ned.

And that was how he found himself in the infamous Moat Cailin, striding into the town of Moaton and the outlying Forest of Dread. A certain fear and feeling of absolute hopelessness gripped his heart as the King gazed further at it from the comfort of the carriage.

It wasn't until the forest was out of sight was his gaze torn away. Robert leaned back into his seat in the carriage and found his sight resting on the demon he married. Cersei sat, or rather lounged in her cushioned bench with a disinterested glance at him before returning her head to resting on an outstretched arm. Joanna and was gazing out the opposite door with a wide-eyed expressions as they watched Moaton go about its daily activities.

By the Seven, Robert hated reminiscing on the past on what could've been. _'Myrcella should be here.'_ He thought bitterly. _'Lyanna should be here.'_

He snapped those thoughts from his mind as they approached the gates of Moat Cailin and his somberness easily dissipated upon seeing the venerable and ancient fortress in all its glory. Twenty towers that rose up to the heavens, a thick curtain wall and the soldiers manning the crenelated platforms. He could feel an electricity and excitement in the air.

Robert felt the corners of his lips curl upwards and his soul feel content for the first time in a long time. For better or worse, the Stag King knew he would be safe in the North, he knew that despite everything that happened these past years, the North would always welcome him with open arms.

The large Baratheon man didn't even wait for the royal carriage to stop nor did he wait for his Kingsguard or the retinue of Baratheon men. The second he saw his old friend he opened the wooden door and stepped out.

He may have been fat and bearded but it did not at all impede his balance.

"Myrcella!" The Demon of the Trident opened his arms in a grand gesture where the Cailstark family and Hadrian Stark as well as Mycella were waiting patiently bowing on a knee, except his daughter who only curtsied deeply. He embraced his daughter and hugged her widely receiving one in return.

After releasing his daughter from a hug that would make any doting mother red with envy, the King of Westeros stood over Ned who he gestured to stand, causing everyone else to do so as well.

"My King, the Moat is yours." Ned stated formally and Robert barked a laugh. He never wanted to be King but Jon Arryn said that considering his on grandmother was a Targaryen, he was the most legitimate choice. Still, Robert disregarded the rules of formality and clasped his eldest friend in a hug that threatened the crush Ned's ribs.

"Come show me your family." Ned smiled at the genuine happiness that seemed to radiate off the man. It was distinctly different from the drunk and angsty man that sat on the Iron Throne. "Cat!" He exclaimed and embraced his friend's lady-wife.

Robert quickly went through the Cailstark children, while he spied Cersei get greeted by Ned. Robb and even little Bran were built like warriors. While Rickon was a little timid given his large stature, he still hid slightly behind Cat's skirts. The King chuckled boisterously at that. He approached Sansa and was a little disappointed when she was acting like a proper lady. In his opinion, ladies of the North should have a little wildness to them, but said nothing more than a nod and grunt of acknowledgement. Only when he stopped on Arya did he give a moment's pause.

Even with a little girl's features, she looked like the second coming of Lyanna. A brown pony-tail with two strands of errant hair framing her face. A simple grey dress with a leather belt at the wait and small dagger and dirtied cheeks.

Robert forced himself away as he greeted Hadrian Stark with a shake of the arm and a friendly clap on the back. The Demon of the Trident was even more riveted by the young man's appearance. He was certainly Brandon Stark's son. Broad shoulders with a tall wired frame and tousled and wild raven black hair, a small stubble of a beard adorned his face and Hadrian's multi-colored gaze looked even more piercing and calculating than the last time he had seen him.

"Ned, take me to the crypts, I wish to pay my respects." Robert ordered. "Hadrian, come with."

"Come, love." Cersei stated sweetly, whilst eyeing Myrcella with a scorn that was only rivaled by Cat's own towards Arya's disinterested one. "Let us rest. We have been traveling for a month already. The dead can wait."

Robert didn't even bother regarding the cold-blooded woman with a look of acknowledgment. "Ned." And with that, he didn't even bother to check to see if his friend and Hadrian were following, already hearing the sloppy footfalls in the mud behind him.

They were silent as the three including two Kingsguard, Sir Oakheart and Sir Blount were tailing close behind, that was until they arrived at the tomb did Robert speak. "Oakheart, Blount wait out here."

Two different reactions met him at that. The ever dutiful yet soft-spoken Oakheart merely nodded and stood to the side while Sir Blount took on a surprised look. "Your grace, I insist that I accompany you, at the very least."

A hard and sharpened gaze from the King floundered further argument from the slow-witted Kingsguard. Blount quickly took to the opposite side of the entrance way.

The King watched as Hadrian quickly took the lead while picking a lit torch off the wall to Robert, he probably took up the mantle of honorary Kingsguard as his hand went to rest on his sword. Ned and Robert walked together while venturing further into the dimly lit tombs.

"Tell me what happened to Jon Arryn." Was Ned's delayed question.

Robert wasted no time in answering. "One minute he was fine and the next it burned right through him. Whatever it was." Robert paused as he might've come off as a little insensitive. "Loved that man."

"We both did." Ned replied as they continued to follow Hadrian deeper into the crypts. They both eyed the younger man for a second waiting for a snort or cough of derision. It was no secret that Jon Arryn and Hadrian Stark was a combination that no one saw friendship from.

When none came, Robert nodded his approval to Ned. "He never had to teach you much, but me." Robert and Ned chuckled lightly at that. There was no further need for explanation. Up until his marriage to Lyanna which was when he was six and ten and she five and ten, he was a real whoremonger and a fighter.

"Aye." Ned agreed with a barely disguised smirk but Robert saw it and immediately capitalized on embarrassing his eldest friend.

"Ah, don't look at me like that. It wasn't my fault, he was never heavy handed. Perhaps, a couple good whollops and he'd have me just like you." The both laughed at that and turned to each other. Hadrian stopped a little ways away giving them privacy.

"I need you, Ned." Robert bluntly stated after moment. "Down in King's Landing. Not up here where you are no damn use to anybody." The King quickly continued. "Lord Eddard Cailstark, I would name you the Hand of the King."

The King watched as Ned took on a confused look and finally decided on falling to one knee and bowing his head. "I am not worthy of the honor."

Robert had to suppress his smirk. "I'm not trying to honor you. I'm trying to get you to run my kingdom, while I eat and drink myself to an early grave. Damn it, Ned stand up." The northern lord quickly stood and they both regarded each other. "You helped me win the Iron Throne, now help me keep the damn thing. Let us rule, together."

They both walked towards Hadrian where they found something that made all their blood run cold. While both Ned and Robert felt a seizing of their hearts. A feeling Robert recognized as the same kind of dread that welled up from the forest on the outskirts.

Where there used to be a statue of a likeness to Ashara Dayne now sat a partially destroyed face with the heavy and armored stone coffin lid, broken in half and its contents empty. A cold gust of wind swept the room, causing all the candles but the torch to go out.

 _ **Until Next Time!**_


	11. XI

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

A raven haired beauty awoke with a gasp of air. Her violet eyes dilated and refocused before looking frantically around and instinctually gripping the side of her head the where ghost pain resided. It quickly receded and she took in her surroundings. She was in a forest that much was clear.

The only things she could remember was that she was in had been rescued from the clutches of Greyjoy raiders by a retinue of knights and escorted away by a septa before everything turned hazy and black.

She couldn't help but feel a dreadful feeling well up inside her as she further looked around.

The light skinned beauty stood on wobbly legs but hastily oriented herself before dusting her dress of dirt.

After she regained some semblance of her bearings, looked around and noticed several people loitering around the campfire.

They varied as a tavern of people.

One, a resolute man with an imperious gaze with regal robes but a hood shrouded his facial features.

The second, a woman who looked peaceful and serene in a white chiton leaving nothing to the imagination. Her face also shrouded but not by a hood but a by a radiant white light that seemed to only touch her and nothing else.

The third, another woman, however this one was elegant and beautiful in a very unnatural way, she seemed to be just in her twenties as she looked extremely young. Her face was also shrouded in a mysterious white light that touched nothing else.

The fourth and last woman in the group, was a cowled older lady with bloodied and bandaged eyes. She held a lantern at her side with a large hooked staff. She wore a tattered cloak and had dirtied white hair.

The next was a man clearly in shining silver armor that covered the entirety of his body and looking every bit the knight in a story. A large shiny broadsword rested on his lap with his helm covering the entirety of his face and a large red plume adorning the top.

The last being was a large burly and hairy man that glistened in sweat and grime. He wore a standard blacksmiths outfit, complete with oil and grease stained set of brown gloves and apron. The bottom of his face illuminated by invisible glowing hot coals while the top was shrouded in a thick hood. He wielded a hammer in one hand.

They seemed to notice her presence and as one turned towards her.

Her breath hitched and even though she could see none of their eyes, the power they seemed to exude was crushing in its weight.

She finally regained enough composure to ask them the question that burned in her mind. "Who are you?"

The only indication that seemed to present itself that her question was heard was a small puff of smoke that erupted from the burly man's mouth at his grunt and a giggle that escaped the youngest of the group.

"We are the Seven, as you _peasants_ have deemed to call us." Answered the knight in an annoyed tone as a rock that appeared from nowhere was in his hand and he took to sharpening the large broadsword. She quickly connected all the dots from her few lessons with the septa when she was younger.

"There is only six of you."

At that the mouths of the Mother, the Maiden and the Crone frowned. While the Father and the Smith grimaced in annoyance. The only signal that the Warrior gave was that he stopped the action of sharpening his sword.

"Yes, the seventh that represents death is currently indisposed." The Father said with a dismissing hand. She missed the extremely brief contortion of muscles that indicated hesitation and anger in the Father's otherwise imperial figure.

She didn't notice how he didn't refer to the representation as the Stranger but instead she noticed the dreadful feeling welling up inside the pit of her stomach. She flicked her eyes towards the Warrior who had continued to sharpen his sword.

She made to leave, only to be halted by an invisible force that seemed to will itself into existence when the Smith raised his hand.

"Ah ah ah." The Mother whispered if a bit malevolently, as if catching prey that had attempted to escape. The finger she wagged only added to the insult.

The Maiden spoke. "Everyone on the Planetos believes you to be dead. Well those that matter at least." The honeyed voice of the Maiden, that was anything but innocent, crowed. She giggled into her hand. "We have plans for you and if rumor of your vitality were to reach the wrong ears." She paused and giggled once again. "Let's just say _that_ wouldn't sit too well with us."

She could see that they turned once again and began going back to what they were doing before she had awoken, with the Father moving a little ways away and peering into the dark shadows beyond.

The fearful look in Ashara Dayne's eyes only grew as the scraping of the Warrior's sword and the hammering of the Smith grew louder with each pass and strike.

* * *

Daenerys Targaryen, the Stormborn and sister to the _Beggar King,_ was not looking forward towards meeting the Khal.

She had heard the gossip, the stories of what the Dothraki hordes were like. Nomadic pillagers, raiders in every sense of the word. The infamous Horse Lords of Essos were not known for their tender mercies nor their humble chivalry.

And apparently, she was to marry Khal Drogo. The supposed Khal of Khals, under whom had formed the largest Khalassar since the _Century of Blood_ , an armed force of forty thousand mounted warriors with the accompanying families, slaves and livestock.

To say she wasn't scared would be like saying Viserys didn't want anything to do with the Iron Throne or the Seven Kingdoms.

An outright lie.

But Viserys would unleash the _dragon_ , as he called it, should she even show the slightest bit of hesitation or defiance.

She could feel the stinging pain on her nipple when Viserys had pinched her roughly when he was informing her of the imminent arrival of the Khal. She had been about to take a steaming hot bath when it had happened.

 _Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise?_ Her optimistic thoughts spoke against the cloud of fear but were quickly shrouded again. No blessing she could think of could be found in the company of the Dothraki.

The only solaces she found were in the rare times Jorah would regale her with stories of Westeros and the few books he had on the land that was so far out of reach.

Her thoughts turned to the matter at hand, however. She was in the porch of the Magister's manse waiting with Viserys and Illyrio for the Khal. She wondered where Jorah was as he was Lord Commander of the Kingsguard of Viserys and with all the people milling about the courtyard, there shouldn't be any reason he is not here.

"Where is he?" Viserys harshly whispered to Illyrio, breaking Daenerys from her thoughts. Her brother's hand was gripping a golden hilted sword at his waist tightly making his knuckles turn white.

Illyrio smiled lightly, in a manner that showed as if he were talking to a simpleton. Viserys didn't notice it. "The Dothraki are not known for their punctuality."

As if being summoned, four riders came riding in with masterful skill, causing the magisters milling in the courtyard to hurry and stumble to avoid the uncaring men.

Illyrio greeted them in a grand manner with his arms raised. Daenerys observed the riders. Three looked similar to each other with sun-kissed skin with a single long raven haired braid that stretched no farther than the middle of their backs. They wore tight leathers and furs.

Their was one she spied that stood out from the others however. On top of large brown heavily muscled horse was the largest man she had ever seen in her life. A man as equally muscled as the horse under him with his eyes and attention on her and not on the flowery greetings of the magisters around him. His muscled torso was covered in stripes of blue war paint and everything about him radiated danger.

His braid was even longer than the other three and hung loosely past his waist.

She didn't even realize she was moving forward until Viserys' hand snapped forward and took hold of her own. "That's Khal Drogo." He said in an awe if quite a bit of a dismissive tone. His eyes flicked towards the one that was analyzing everything about her and than back down to her. "You see his braid?" She nodded slightly watching the mesmerizing sway of the long braid. "It's the longest there is, they say. You see, the Dothraki only cut their braid if they lose a fight to show their defeat. He never lost a fight if its gotten that long."

She looked to Viserys at that as she could've sworn she heard a bit of admiration for someone else. "He is still a savage but one of the finest killers out there." He exclaimed quietly with a manic glint in his eye.

"Come girl." Illyrio announced sweetly and gestured for her to come. Viserys let her hand go where it returned to its place on the handle of the sword in an iron-like grip.

Daenerys took small meek steps towards the magister who gestured her towards the Khal. She went over with her eyes gazing towards the floor before turning upwards to meet the volcanic ash eyes of the Khal.

After what seemed like an eternity, he grunted, turned his steed and left with two others following closely behind. One, however, lingered behind but was watching her. For all intents and purposes, he looked normal. Nothing out of the ordinary and with a snort of derision, he too left.

Had Daenerys been looking towards Illyrio, she would've seen the Magister's eyes narrow something she would've never seen the grace the portly and optimistic man ever before.

But her meekness prevented it and her eyes cast downwards before she noticed anything else out of the ordinary.

* * *

Myrcella Baratheon, Princess of the Seven Kingdoms walked slowly towards Harry's solar. Her thoughts turned towards her betrothed and what led her to this.

When the Royal entourage entered the Moat and her father, along with her betrothed and her soon to be good-uncle went to the crypts as was an apparent if unspoken tradition in the North that the dead be respected before any sort of business be done. She noted this whenever a Northern lord visited Winterfell or the rare occasion Hadrian and she visited another lord.

She had been left with nothing to do except bear the scrutiny of her mother who insisted on interrogating her on the past few years.

The Queen was anything but subtle in her attempts at degrading her.

Myrcella thought attempting was an apt description of the action as she had gotten further independent when she was away from the vulture. Her attire and attitude was proof of that. Gone was the meek and glass doll that was Myrcella that was dressed in golden dresses befitting of someone of her status. In her place was a responsible, if a bit wild Myrcella in leather tunics and cotton wool dresses.

Her royal wardrobe was laying forgotten and gathering dust in several large strongboxes at Winterfell.

She and Jeyne Poole, her handmaiden from Winterfell were quickly ushered towards a stitching room where Sansa, Arya and Joanna were stitching with the hawk that was Septa Mordane as the teacher.

Myrcella was subject to a quiet torture as she bore the brunt of fake compliments from the Septa.

She knew they were fake as her stitching looked no better than Arya's who received nothing but back handed compliments from the devil that was Mordane. Joanna and Sansa received legitimate praise as their stitchings were actually pretty good. Jeyne's were actually the best but she was ignored in favor of the nobles.

After that affair she and Jeyne went to wait by the crypts for her father and her betrothed.

A gust of cold wind sent chills up her spine and ill feeling took hold of her. She wasn't the only one, as the Kingsguard guarding the entryway instinctually gripped their swords and Jeyne looked worried.

After a few minutes of an uneasy wait, a rough looking Hadrian Stark exited. Upon seeing him however, she lit up and smiled brightly. She knew something was wrong when he offered a strained smile in return and politely excused himself. Before heading towards the castle.

A furious Robert and an equally irate Eddard followed quickly but upon seeing her, quickly schooled their features, and offered each other pleasantries before they too excused themselves. She also left but not before spying a mass of Cailstark and Stark men at arms move towards the crypts being led by none other than Ser Barristan the Bold.

Whatever had happened in the crypts to warrant such a response should've dissuaded any curiosity.

But a lingering thought in her head made her want to find out about it. Her betrothed should be able to trust her with such things now. After all, if it was enough to concern the ever grim and serious Ned, a King who was typically uncaring for such matters and Harry, who never was unsettled by just about anything than she should be privy to the matter.

At least that was what her mind reasoned.

With a fragile plan to confront Harry, she made her way to the castle and up its endless steps towards the solar that Hadrian had took command of upon his arrival to the Moat.

The corridor to the solar was surprisingly empty of guards, where Harry typically had at least one even at Winterfell in front of the room. From within the room she heard a multitude of voices she didn't recognize and only one she did.

Her curiosity getting the better of her, she listened closely and cracked the wooden door minutely and peered in seeing an unexpected sight.

Several cowled men in brown and tan colored robes sat around a large oval table that should've been to large for the room. All sat in brown polished oak high chairs with Hadrian in his brown boiled leather armor and a wolf pelt cloak adorning his shoulders.

In all the room should've been much to small to accommodate all the occupants as well as the furniture inside but while that lingered at the back of her mind, she instead listened to the conversation that was being led by Hadrian.

"…so we have no clue as to what could've done this?" One of the cowled men with a high voice asked and as she adjusted her sight better, she noted he was a she, if the curves underneath the robes were anything to go by.

"I have my suspicions." Harry replied, if a little downtrodden. "The White Walkers, I know of to be the only ones capable of doing this but this far south of the Wall doesn't make sense. We would've seen the signs of their return if they ventured this far and I believe I would've sensed some semblance of magic should they have been close. Other than that we have nothing else to go on."

 _White Walkers?_ Her mind worked overtime to find what that was before it landed on an old nursery story that she had heard Jeyne talking about. Heralds of ice and creatures of death told to children as bedtime stories to keep them behaved.

The entire group hummed, murmured or nodded their agreement. "A Man has a report from the spy of a Bear and Dragons." A silky voice that bore the accent of the east spoke. "A Man confirms that the Bear consorts with a Dragon and a Magister of Pentos. A Dragon are to treat with a Horse and obtain an army of such. A Dragon plans to wed a Horse as payment."

Hadrian wasted no time in responding where Myrcella thoughts turned jumbled at the poetic speak. "Jorah is a fool if he thinks the Viserys is going to benefit him however, keep an eye on the event. If the plan carries through and Viserys gets his army then Westeros will be ready but just in case have Khal Khoran double his efforts, should such a thing come to pass, he may be needed now more than ever."

"The Wolf has spoken and a Man will see it done." The man spoke.

"What of our dealings in Volantis?" Harry asked while twirling a finger on the rim of a simple metal goblet. Myrcella decided more research into Essos was in order.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the woman that spoke in the beginning. "It appears that a ship was able to sail away with a Priestess where she goes we do not know but we managed several deaths in their staff. This happened a single moon ago."

She didn't see Harry's head nod but she could hear the agreement in a hum that emanated from him. "One priestess shouldn't be too much of a concern. Focus on the temples in Volantis, the sooner the Red God is dealt with the sooner we can deal with the Seven."

"Of course, Champion of Death." The woman seductively added and Myrcella felt a contraction in her chest. Jealousy decided to rear its ugly head at that, Myrcella needed to leave before she made herself known.

And so she did with a hundred thoughts in her head.

There was so much to research and find out about with the first and foremost being…

 _Champion of Death?  
_

* * *

 ** _Hello! Sorry about the wait, as a few of you already know with the few PMs I was able to respond to my work had and will have me traveling out of town for extended periods of time. As such I apologize for such a hiatus and will endeavor to update as much as possible however I make no promises._**

 _ **I would also like to thank those that brought a story that plagiarized a couple chapters of mine own to my attention, action has been taken and we will see where it goes. Hopefully such a matter is resolved quickly and peacefully.**_

 _ **Until Next Time!**_


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